Overpass
by purelyamuse
Summary: "I think all the people I love will eventually leave me. Just disappear." "Maybe . . . I don't know . . . maybe we don't need lots of people. Maybe we just need one. And that's enough." BPOV.
1. Chapter 1

**Overpass by Purelyamuse**

**Summary: "Sometimes I think all the people I love will eventually leave me. Just disappear." "Maybe . . . I don't know . . . maybe we don't need lots of people. Maybe we just need one. And that's enough."**

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. I do not own Twilight. I do, however, live in AZ and know someone who has a friend who's best friends with her. So . . .**

**Playlist: Interstate Love Song by Stone Temple Pilots,** **Trapped in a Box by No Doubt**

**Chapter 1 **

**2008**

Heavy traffic flows beneath me. The concrete overpass seems to rumble with the whoosh of wind, but I know I'm safe. He taught me that. My fingers close around the chain links that encase me. Though, when I'm here, I feel free. As my windblown hair tickles my lips and the heat of the day warms my skin, the memories of my youth take residence in my mind. And I can't stop it. Nor do I want to. Because I miss him. It's been more than ten years, but I still miss him. And I probably always will.

**1996**

"Why don't you just ask him out? You know you want to." I push my hips away from the counter, leaning on it, snatching a cracker with a perfectly sized piece of cut cheese from the snack platter.

"Because he should. It's indecent." I laugh at Alice. That's just dumb. "I don't know. My brothers always told me to wait for him to make the move but then stop him if he made the wrong move."

"Who's making wrong moves?" a low voice says behind me. I'm not used to hearing low voices here in the middle of the day, not since all three of Alice's brothers were lost in a car crash two years ago.

"No one. No one's making any moves." She's using her I'm-pathetic-unless-I-have-a-man voice. It's getting old, but I play along anyway. That's what best friends do.

"That's the problem," I say, turning slightly to catch the stranger's eyes. Who the heck is this boy in Alice's house?

"That's a blessing. She's crazy. Imagine her with a boyfriend. Her neurotic self would implode."

"I agree."

"You, shut up," Alice says, pointing between the two of us—me and mystery boy. Whoever he is, he's cute. Eyes the color of grass and crazy messed up hair—a burnt red, the shade of leaves turned in the fall.

"I'm not shutting up," he says. "Besides, looks like you've got a lesbian lover right here. You don't need a man."

"See, Alice, I've been telling you for years. Let's just kiss and see if we're gay. Then all of this boy nonsense could go away. You never know."

"I like her," he blurts with a grin. I like him, too. Whoever he is.

"No, you don't. You used to yell at us all the time. Especially her. You can't stand her." Alice gives her best glare.

"I can't?"

"No, you can't."

I'm so confused. I know this guy?

"Well, who is _her_?" he asks, staring at me, trying to place my face, I guess. I have no clue who this guy is, but he makes me laugh, and I like how he picks on Alice like her brothers used to. I miss them and their hyper boy energy.

"Who do you think it is?" Alice asks exasperated. Apparently, he should know. And I should know. But neither of us does. But I'm not stupid enough to give myself away.

"I don't know," he says, with a mocking tone. "I can't keep track of all million of your friends." He leaves my side in favor of the fridge and opens the orange juice, dumping it straight into his mouth. I should be disgusted. Alice is, but there's something so inherently masculine about that behavior I find attractive.

"Gross, Edward," she says.

"Edward? Edward Masen, Edward?" My voice is high in my shock. No way.

"Yeah," he says, smiling around the lip of the orange juice jug and taking another swig.

I stand up straight, tilting my head to take him in. "Your face cleared up. And you got taller. You look different. Less gangly. And your nose isn't so big."

"Aren't you delightful? Don't tell me you're the new best friend and I'll be spending all my time here in this crap hole with you pointing out my blackheads."

"I practically live here," I say. "Get used to it."

"Well, I _do_ live here. And your boobs shrunk. So there."

Does he really know who I am? And wait . . . when did Alice's cousin move in, and why didn't she tell me?

"I only complimented you," I say, looking down at my breasts. They grew. Honestly, they did. I just don't feel comfortable putting them on display like many girls. I wear bigger shirts. Mens' shirts. It's the style anyway. Sort of. Some girls do it. A massive Billabong shirt is awesome. And he's one to talk. He's wearing one. Blue with a silver swirl around the logo. I want it. Maybe I'll steal it. I know where he lives, after all. How long's he staying? And why is he here?

"Backhanded compliments are not compliments," he instructs.

"Fine. I meant to say you're cuter than you were the last time I saw you."

He sets down the jug on the counter, looking me square in the eye. "Which was when . . ."

"I saw you last. You ready, Alice? That movie starts soon."

"Yeah, let me grab my bag." Alice exits the kitchen, leaving us staring at each other.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" I ask.

"Not a clue. Should I?"

"Yes, Edward. You should." We fought over the tire swing at their grandmother's house by the lake every summer until I was twelve. I'm not sure how old he was then.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope. You'll figure it out."

"Hmm."

"You ready to take us?" Alice asks Edward when she returns with her massive purse full of candy and soda. She's particular about what she likes and always packs enough to share.

"Esmom's not driving?" No way.

"Not today. No." His voice is lower, like he's trying to be extra mature.

"You took Carlisle's driving test? And you passed?" I highly doubt that. There are only a few of our friends who are allowed to drive us around.

"I'm an excellent driver." He pulls his keys from his pocket and clacks them together with his fingers.

"Fine. Shot gun!" I squeal.

We drive while Alice chatters about Jasper. Will he or won't he call? No one knows. School starts soon. Hopefully then we'll know more. And then I can stop hearing about it, and she can start telling some of her other girlfriends. They're technically my girlfriends, too, but I don't particularly like them. I wouldn't hang out with them if it weren't for Alice's need to be popular. So I hang in there for her. And they put up with me.

We get to the theater, and Edward leans over me to open my door. I laugh at his pseudo-manners and step out of the car. Alice is by my side, putting on lip gloss. We're going to be in a dark room for two hours. It's ridiculous in my opinion. Edward ducks his head to say goodbye, and I wave. He's full on grinning at me. His smile lights up his face, somehow matching the fiery red of his hair.

I shut the door on that too-cute smile, and he rolls down the window, yelling, "Your ass filled out. Have fun, Bella," before peeling out.

My ass filled what? And Bella? He knows my name?

The tires squeal as he rounds the corner out of view. I cover my wide smile with my hand.

Carlisle and Esme would kill him if they knew he drove like an idiot. But I won't tell because I can't wait to get back in the car with him.

This could be bad.

**-OP-**

"I'm back, Dad," I say out of courtesy more than anything else.

He sits at the kitchen table, not looking up from the mound of paperwork in front of him. His specialty hardware store keeps him busy nonstop. He grunts in response. He never cares where I go or what I do, nor does he care if I'm home.

Home.

A quiet place.

A lonely place.

A place devoid of affection and emotional intimacy.

In other words, the exact opposite of Alice's home.

To say my dad and I have a strained relationship is putting it lightly. When I was nine and Mom left, he tried for a while. He took me to movies, to the park, out to eat, but those efforts petered out quickly. Our conversation was stifled; even I knew that at my young age. He was never much involved. Mom had been in charge of everything, of me. But I guess she got tired. And gave up. I don't know. What I do know is I was left behind with someone who didn't know what to do with me.

As the years wore on, it got worse. And our feelings went unspoken. Everything goes unspoken. Even the fact that he can barely look at me. I am the spitting image of my mother.

I brush my teeth, staring at her in the mirror, wondering why she ever left. I try not to think about it often because I don't imagine I'll ever understand why she did what she did. And when we do see each other or speak, it's a non-issue because all we talk about is her and her new life, devoid of me.

"Goodnight," I say, before heading to my room. This time, I get nothing.

I suspect Dad and I will never have a close relationship, and while I wish it were better, I do have Alice and her family. I'm lucky in that way. They keep me sane and emotionally sound. Sort of.

But Alice and her parents . . . they're all I've got, especially now that Riley's gone, he and his brothers. No other close friends. No other close relatives. I stay distant from everyone else. I have to. To keep my heart safe.

I slip my hand under my pillow and try to doze off. The sooner I sleep, the sooner I can get up and leave this house and head back to Alice's. Where I am somebody. Where I am noticed.

**Author's Note: **Overpass began as an entry for a contest, which had a 10,000 word count limit. This makes me laugh so hard now when I think about it.

Overpass Odds and Ends (pics and playlist) has a place on my blog already. I will post Mondays and Thursdays. I will not get to reply to every review, but I will reply to some. I hope. You can catch me on Twitter if you'd like. Thank you in advance for reading! I adore you all! And I missed you. I'm looking forward to sharing this journey with you. I hope you enjoy it.

My music guru, MsJaxTeller, is to blame for all of your new favorite tunes listed in this story. My prereaders, _ss77_, modernsafari1, and cejsmom, are such fun, skilled, and thoughtful ladies, and I adore them. My beta, Perry Maxwell, not only has the skill of a technical writing ninja, but she also demands that I dig deep, make it better, make it believable, and make her feel. And, dammit, I hope I made her proud! Thanks, ladies. I owe you.

-Purely


	2. Chapter 2

**Playlist: Loser by Beck**

**Chapter 2**

**2008**

I run my fingers over the chain link fence as I walk, looking to the old field of the closed down elementary school I used to attend. I imagine the voices of children screaming and laughing as they play tag, making friends and memories. Alice and I met there in the third grade when she moved here. We've been inseparable ever since, in the figurative sense, of course.

I make it to my childhood home, sweat dotting my heated skin.

"You've been gone a while," Dad says, pizza box open on the coffee table.

"Yeah, just checking out the old stomping grounds."

"Are you excited?"

I shrug.

"Alice is still coming, right?"

"Yeah, she'll be there. Some of the old gang, too."

"Has it really been ten years since you graduated, Bells?"

"Sure has. It seems like yesterday."

**1996**

I play foosball across from Edward, making him laugh with my rude commentary about his players wearing lipstick.

"So your parents seriously kicked you out?"

"Yep."

"Right before your senior year?"

"Yep."

"And they only actually caught you once?"

"Yep."

"Pot?"

"Yep."

"Was that all you were doing?"

"No." He says it with a mischievous smile.

"Well, what were you doing?"

"Lots of girls," Emmett barks from across the room where he plays Donkey Kong with Eric. This home is an oasis for teenage boys. It's Carlisle's man lair—movies and video games galore. No one ever gets bored in Alice's home. No one.

Edward grins slyly, catching my eyes. He's flirting. I like it even though I don't like the idea of him 'doing lots of girls' as Emmett put it.

"You really want to know?" Edward asks.

"Yeah. I'm not a little girl anymore."

"You're not?" he asks, like he thinks I am.

"I'm sixteen, Edward. You're not much older."

"Eighteen."

"Liar," Alice yells from across the room, Jasper's arm's slung around her while they sit on the couch playing some sort of card game where you have to be as close to each other as possible. The rest of the sectional is covered in our friends—most of them girls trying to get Edward's attention.

Every Friday after the football game, this is the place to be. Esme decided when we started high school she was ready for laughter in her home again and invited Alice to make her house the party house. At least this way Esme knows where her daughter is and what she's doing, and, most importantly, if she's safe.

"Is that true? Are you a liar?" I score on him. "Ha! You suck!"

"You suck," he counters.

"Liar!" Jasper shouts this time. "Bella doesn't suck. Ask Tyler. Homecoming was a bust."

"I'm gonna kill you," I say, throwing myself over the couch and onto Jasper's lap where I mess up his hair.

Alice scoffs and protects herself, her hands going to her face.

Edward laughs as I continue to scuffle. Jasper throws me off eventually, and I sit on the ottoman joining in their card game, which is a really lame version of blackjack.

Unfortunately, while I play, Edward steals off somewhere, leaving me with a bunch of people I'd rather not be around right now. I just don't click with these people. Then again, I don't want to. My small group of loved ones is all I can handle, and they've proven themselves to me. I don't need anything more.

But Edward? He's interesting, so I want to get to know him. Plus, he is an extension of Alice's family, and therefore, could easily become a part of my life. If he proves himself.

Bored, I head outside to play darts and score an iced root beer. I hope Carlisle's outside nursing his own beer. He always entertains me when I get exhausted by the crowds. He's the same way—likes to socialize but needs a break now and then.

But I don't find Carlisle alone. Edward's with him. On my stool. Playing with my darts. Maybe I don't want to get to know him.

"You're a thief, you know that? Stealing my pseudo-family, my pseudo-dad, my pseudo-chair, my pseudo-darts."

"Your pseudo-heart," Edward quips.

"How old are you? Really?" I ask, standing in front of him so he can't make his shot.

He shakes his head. I look to Carlisle who smiles before bringing the bottle to his lips, taking a drink.

"I'm twenty-one." Dead serious tone.

"And I'm a stripper," I say.

"You let Alice hang out with strippers? Cool." Edward and Carlisle bump knuckles.

"I'd let Alice hang out with Bella any day over you, and you're my nephew," Carlisle says.

"That says a lot about you, Carlisle."

"Yes. It says I have good taste."

"It says you're disloyal." Edward's trying to sound stern, but he's not fooling anyone.

"Disloyal, my ass. I give you a roof and food and teach you my trade, and—"

"You're teaching him engines? I've been begging you for years. You never let me under the hood." My teenage brat comes out every once in a while.

"I've got nudie pictures up in my shop, and crass men work there. Besides, Esme teaches you to cook. We share our skills."

"Nudie pictures don't scare me. I've seen naked women, you know. And I already know how to cook."

"Oh, yeah, those hash browns," Edward starts.

And Carlisle continues. "And her quiche with the mushrooms and spinach."

"You're staying the night, right?" Edward's hopeful to eat my food. Though, I'm hopeful, too. Sometimes we bump into each other at night when I can't sleep.

"Yes," I say, putting my hands on my hips. "No breakfast for you." I turn my back on them and walk away, wrenching open the door.

Just before it closes Edward shouts, "Seventeen."

I laugh.

And I make him quiche in the morning.

**-OP-**

It's nearing lunchtime, and I should be heading home. Sometimes I feel as though I'm here too much and need to get out of the way. Today is one of those days. No one's said anything, but there's lots of stuff going on. Esme's at the grocery store, Carlisle had a friend over with an emergency truck problem, and Alice left hours ago to go on a date with Jasper. She didn't even say goodbye. It's just me and Edward. Although, Carlisle is just outside.

The idea of heading home to my empty, quiet house is not appealing, so I stick around and find Edward.

He's on the couch watching Pop-up Video and chatting on the phone. "Shut the hell up; you don't even know what you're talking about. No, it's not like that. It's—"

I plop on the couch beside him and lean over his body, my mouth next to the receiver. "It's exactly like that."

He makes a tch sound and throws his hand out wide. "Shut it," he says to the person on the other end and hangs up the phone.

"That was rude," I say, scrunching up my nose. He smiles wide, shaking his head at my antics. I stand and stretch. "Well, it's time for me to head home, I think." _Please ask me to stay._

"You got a hot date tonight?"

"Ooh, so hot. With this long, thick, black —"

"Okay, never mind."

"Instrument. I have to practice my clarinet tonight. I'm trying to steal first chair on Monday."

"You will. So why clarinet?"

"My mom played it."

"You tight with her?"

I laugh and sit back down, pulling my legs up and facing him. "No, you? Close with your mom?"

"Nah. Where is your mom? I've only heard Esme and Carlisle talking about your dad."

"Mom left us when I was little."

"I kinda wish my parents would divorce. I think it would be better, you know."

I nod, but I don't know. I wonder what life would be like if Mom had stuck around. Would I feel so different from everyone else? Would I hold people at arm's length? I'll never know.

"My parents don't fight unless they fight over me. Which is never good. I create a lot of tension, I guess," he says.

This is getting pretty real, so I make a joke. "So maybe they should divorce you." I regret it instantly because they sort of have.

"Yeah, life is better without me. That's for sure."

I want to say something to dissuade him from thinking this because I know it's a lie. He gives me something to do, something to look forward to. Hell, he's doing it right now just being here. And unbeknownst to him, making me feel normal. Making me feel validated in my loneliness.

"I dunno what I'm talking about. I just know they seem happier now that I'm gone."

"Yeah, me, too. I mean, with my mom. She was a good mom, but now that I think about it, she was never really happy. She is now. Without me."

"We're a couple of throwaways, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"Wanna get some ice cream?"

"You payin'?"

"It's not a date, Swan." Wow. Rude. Whatever. Ice cream is ice cream.

"Right. Not a date. No sucking necessary. Got it."

He stands and holds out his hand, pulling me up. "There's something wrong with you."

"Ditto," I say and follow him out to his car.

We wave goodbye to Carlisle from the car, driving slowly, smoothly. Once we hit the corner, Edward guns it, making me squeal in delight. He laughs and shares that cocky grin with me—the one I'm learning to love.

Throwaway or not, Edward's fun.

**A/N:** I'm posting teasers on my blog a day or two after each chapter is posted here. Enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Playlist: Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town by Pearl Jam, Ants Marching by Dave Matthews Band**

**Chapter 3**

**2008**

The car ride to Forks High is quick. I sit in the parking lot, staring at the building for several minutes. So much happened here. So much didn't happen here. I love and hate this place. I want to dip it in bronze and preserve it. I want to burn it to the ground.

I exit my car, one boot at a time, and slam the door shut. As soon as I do, I realize I left my purse inside. Maybe on purpose so I can come back if I need to. I leave it there and stride past the old gym where Coach Harris used to make me play volleyball so he could stare at my ass. For years, I told everyone he was a pervert. No one believed me until a freshman came forward, telling Forks News Five he'd set up a rendezvous with her. Five girls came forward after she did. Gross. I'm glad he never actually came onto me. Just leered.

I stare at the double doors, remembering what it was like to be here day in and day out. When the agony of high school was a regular thing.

**1996**

"Swan, you coming to the game?" Tyler asks, and I nod, though I can't look at him. He's still hopeful even after our dance date that ended early. "You gonna cheer for me?"

"I'm gonna cheer for everyone. I'm in the band. That's what the band does."

He gives me a forced laugh. "Alice's after?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"Me, too."

Edward waves me over absently. He's at his car, talking to Heidi, a senior cheerleader. I should've known he wouldn't stay single long. Cute football players are hard to come by. There's Tyler and Emmett and Edward. A few so-so boys, but that's about it. Edward stands above the rest, and Emmett's been in Rosalie's pocket since she was a freshman even though he was a sophomore playing varsity football.

"I gotta go. My ride," I say, turning away.

"Hey," Edward says, after giving Heidi a quick hug.

"Hey." I sound morose to myself. I hate all these couples. They're so couple-y.

"What's with you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"He's bugging you again, huh?"

"He's not bugging me. He just won't take a hint. I mean, a girl leaves you with blue balls. Would you think she's interested?"

Edward laughs raucously as he gets into his car. "I would say not. Alice?"

"She's heading home with Jasper."

"Then why am I taking you home?" He's perturbed, it seems.

"Because I'm not going home. I'm going to your home. Like always." My hands are on my hips. I don't know how they got there.

"You're in a bad mood."

"I'm just—ugh! Can we just go?" I throw my bag in and slam the door after I'm seated.

Once he's in the car, he keeps talking. "Okay. You need to get high. Or laid. Or something."

"What I need is a make-out session with Jordan Catalano, but that's not gonna happen because I'm not Angela Chase, am I?"

"Who the hell's Jordan? I thought Angela just got together with Ben?"

"She did. Forget it. You don't understand."

"You could enlighten me." He's irritating. I told him I didn't want to talk.

"You couldn't handle it."

"You'd be surprised what I can handle. I'm from Seattle, yo."

I chuckle at his obvious first attempt at using the word yo. "You are so not ghetto, so don't even try."

We make it home just in time to catch The Alice and Jasper Show. She's leaning over the console, her tongue in his mouth, hand on his chest. I think I might throw up.

Edward gets out of the car and bangs on the driver's side window. "She's the closest thing I have to a sister. And I like you, but I will mess you up!"

"Thanks, Dad," Alice says, huffing all the way to her room where she slams the door, locking me out.

"Great. Now what am I going to do for the next few hours?"

Edward shrugs.

I point to him and glare. "Entertain me."

Edward leads the way to his room, opening the door wide. I've only been in a few boys' rooms. None of them look like this. Edward's room is filled with posters—singers and bands—and music. Lots of music. CDs are strewn across the floor, on his unmade bed, piled on his dresser, and even organized haphazardly on some shelves.

I sit on his bed and throw my backpack down. "She's gotten moody," I say. "It's bugging me."

"You're bugging me."

"Hey, what did I do?" I cross my arms over my chest, the excess fabric of my huge shirt bunching up beneath my hands.

"You're feeding off her and her I-have-to-have-a-boyfriend crap. You don't have to have an anything."

"I know that."

"Then why are you acting weird?"

"I just miss her."

"Tell her."

"I can't tell her. She's been after Jasper since the seventh grade. She'll feel guilty, and then she won't know what to do, and I can't add stress to her life. Ever since Riley and Royce and Alec. . . I mean, she's not good with stress."

"Okay, well, just hang. Chill out."

"What's with you and Heidi?"

"Nothing." He picks up a CD from the floor, opening and closing it, keeping his eyes glued to it.

"You kiss her yet?"

"You kiss Tyler?"

"Yeah."

"But you didn't suck?" His lips turn up in the corners.

I throw myself back on the bed, cover my eyes, and groan. "Jasper is dead to me."

"Shouldn't you be killing Tyler in your fantasies. He's the one telling people. That's messed up, if you ask me."

"No, Tyler's a nice guy. He just—I don't know. Anyway. So, no Heidi action?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure I want it." He sits at his desk chair. It used to be Riley's. Weird.

"You're a guy. Every guy wants it."

"Not with her."

"Then who? Who do you want it with?"

He returns to his CD sorting, this time at his desk, and pauses briefly, turning it over and over in his hand. "Not with her," he repeats. "Not unless I'm desperate."

"That's exactly how I feel about Tyler. I'm not interested like that."

"Good," he mumbles and holds up Pearl Jam Vs. I nod. He puts it on, then lies next to me on the bed while we listen to Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town. I laugh at the sentiment of the song, and Edward belts out "Helloooo" with Eddie Vedder. I giggle and roll to my side, staring at Edward for the rest of the track.

He's fascinating to watch as he listens to the music, his eyes fluttering open and closed, like he's inside the sound itself. It's beautiful. Like him.

**-OP-**

The game runs into overtime, Tyler running in the final touchdown and saving our butts. My dad's there to watch me perform but leaves early since I'm taking the bus home from the away game. He doesn't stop by to say hello or goodbye, he simply waves when the game is over. It's so different from Esme's fawning over Edward's game and my marching performance. She's such a mother, and I love it. I crave it. Edward seems goofy-happy when she's around, too. Looks like we both need some mothering. In his case, I wonder why that is.

The crowded bus is loud and full of music. Drumline's always playing cadences on the floor and the backs of seats. We come to a screeching stop at a light, and then the smell hits us. Burnt rubber or something awful fills the air, and we're evacuated.

The football team comes to our rescue. We're instructed to leave as much as we can behind since we'll be tightly packed like sardines in their bus. Tyler spots me and pulls me into his seat without asking. He drapes his heavy arm over my shoulder. I don't complain even though he smells of sweat and grass.

We chat, which is fine, but I don't like the way he's looking at me in my tank top and suspendered uniform. He's watching my boobs more than my eyes. My stomach clenches when he leans toward me. We're talking about biology. How is that an invitation to kiss me?

"Tyler, no," I say quietly, turning my head to the side.

"I miss you. I hardly ever see you." He leans in again, and I have nowhere to go but backward. I scoot as far away as I can, my hands splayed out on my seat and the one in front of me. This is no good as my chest protrudes with the pose. He stares again. Boys are pigs.

His hands are around my waist pulling me in, my hands making that awful sound of sweaty skin against vinyl, screeching out my desire to be anywhere else but here.

"Bella. Helloooo," he sings. _Edward._ Thank goodness. "You gotta hear this story Emmett's telling."

"Yeah?" I say, looking up at my savior.

"Come on," he says casually, offering me his hand. I take it and follow him to the back of the bus where he sits alone. Nowhere near Emmett.

"Thank you," I say quietly once I'm settled near the window. I rest my head against it, not caring if I leave a grease stain on the glass. I don't really care about anything right now. Although, I am jealous that Alice has someone like Jasper. Someone I know cares about her for who she is and would never try to cajole her into anything.

With a gentle hand on my back and a soft, "You okay?" I nod and brush my hand over my cheek, wiping away a few tears.

The drive is long from Port Angeles to Forks, especially since we had the thirty minute switch-buses delay, but it's much better with Edward by my side. His heavy thigh is pressed against mine, and his breathing's even, eyes closed.

"You asleep?" I whisper.

He shakes his head.

"Why'd you drag me back here?"

"Because he's a jerk, Bella."

"And you're not?"

"Not here, I'm not. And not with you."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." He opens his eyes and leans forward, hands on his thighs. He swivels his head to me and says it again. This time I think he does know, but he doesn't explain himself.

When he leans into the seat again, I scoot closer, and he pulls me to his side, his arm around my shoulder. It's so different from Tyler's. I drop my head to his and fall asleep for the rest of the ride.

**-OP-**

Tyler doesn't show up at Alice's, but all the rest of the usuals do. The party's loud; I'm not in the mood. Edward stays by my side most of the night, quietly watching me. When everyone's gone but Jasper, I take a quick shower and slip into my pajamas.

I peek into the den where Edward's got MTV on. Kurt Cobain garbles into a microphone. I miss Nirvana. Edward's eyes meet mine, and he nods upward, asking me what's up.

"Where's Esmom?"

"Her room. She's reading, probably."

I head into Esme's room. Carlisle's out with his drinking buddies tonight, so she held the party herself, adding a chocolate fountain to her usual chicken wings and multitude of chips.

She holds up a finger, and her eyes sweep over the page quickly. She reaches to her nightstand and places her bookmark in it. "You want to talk about it?"

"I don't understand why everyone has to hook up. Why can't we just be?"

"You _can_ just be. Most girls aren't as confident as you, Bella." Her soft eyes tell me she's being honest. Then again, she's always honest.

Her words make me laugh internally. Sure, I am capable, but I am not so confident. I put up a good façade, I guess. Even one Esme can't see through. Unless she's just being polite, which could be the case. Polite or not, I need her advice, her comfort, so I let out my worries. "Why is Jasper so important to Alice?"

"We all lost a lot that night when the boys got on the road. I think she's seeking what she lost: closeness, companionship, love."

"Don't I give her those things?"

"You do, honey, but it's different coming from a boy."

"I guess so. Is this the part when you tell me that someday I'll understand?"

"You will. When it happens to you, you will understand. And you'll forgive her."

"Okay," I say softly, my hand pressed against her doorframe. "Thanks, Esme."

"You're welcome. You'll call your mom tomorrow, right? I can't keep stealing these moments from her."

"You're my mom." I grin, and she returns the sentiment with a small but sad smile.

"I'm very flattered. Call your mom anyway."

I probably won't. Mom's been gone a long time. We don't have much of a relationship since I don't hear from her often. But I don't mind it that way. I much prefer Dad over her.

I pass Edward without a word and attempt to sleep, but Alice's tossing and turning tonight makes it impossible.

I get up at two, heading for the kitchen. The dim light glows above the stove, and beneath it so does Edward's red hair. He's hovered over the counter, eating something straight from the container with his fingers.

"Tell me about Seattle," I say.

He turns around, eyes wide, not thinking I'd catch him here. He's shirtless, wearing ratty striped pajama pants. He shrugs as his chest vibrates with a short chuckle, returning his fingers to the bowl. "You're like a ninja. What do you want to know?"

"Everything. About your family, your friends, why you're here. Take me away from this place with your words."

He sits beside me at the island, sharing his left over chicken wings with me, goofy grin in place.

"It's not a good story," he admits.

"I don't care."

"I was not a good person, Bella. I'm not a good person."

"That's such bull."

"I was stoned all the time."

"I wish I was stoned."

"No, you don't."

"Fine, I don't want to be stoned. I just want to forget."

"There are other ways to forget. Ways to get high." He leans across the island and presses his thumb against the edge of my lip before bringing it to his mouth and sucking on it. "Sauce," he says.

"Uh huh. Sure," I say.

"See?" He cocks an eyebrow. "I'm not a good person."

I catch his eyes with mine and wait a beat, then: "Well, maybe we match."

"Maybe."

**A/N:** Reviews are better than listening to Pearl Jam with a boy. Okay, maybe not, but I still like them. Hope you're enjoying the ride. And did you check out my pretty banner by TwistedLea. She's awesome, by the way. Thanks, lady!


	4. Chapter 4

**Playlist: ****Little Wonders by Rob Thomas, No Rain by Blind Melon**

**Chapter 4 **

**2008**

As I reach the stadium, I laugh. It looks smaller than it did when I was kid. It holds so many memories. Good and bad. Full of laughter and sorrow. I pay for my ticket, my stomach tensing as I realize I'm about to see people I haven't seen in years. Ten year reunions are lame; I don't know how Alice convinced me to come here.

Then again, Alice can convince me to do anything.

**1996**

Alice and Jasper sit in the kitchen at the island, chatting with Esme and eating snacks. He's in my chair. The table seems too far away to sit at, so I stand by awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.

"You should've seen it, Mom, he corrected her grammar in front of everyone. Her face turned red and everything."

"I thought she was gonna throw me out," Jasper says, then pops a strawberry into his mouth. Esme put those strawberries out for me. She knows they're a favorite of mine. And he's eating them.

"And lose face? No way. Not Mrs. Stole. She's always been that way. She must be 1001 now. I can't believe that old bat's still there. Carlisle used to . . . well, he should tell it. Carlisle!" she yells, calling behind her toward the garage where he's tinkering with a car, no doubt.

There's no movement, so Esme catches my eyes. "Will you get him, honey? You guys have got to hear this story."

"Sure," I say. I'll go anywhere to get away from this horror movie where Jasper has stolen my life.

The heavy door squeaks open, and the stagnant smell of men and oil makes my nose wrinkle.

"Edward, can you hand me that—"

"Nope. Not Edward," I say. Does no one want me around anymore?

"Oh, sorry," he says, lifting his head from the hood and smiling, the fond smile I get when we haven't been around each other in a while.

"Esme wants you to tell some story about a bad teacher from Forks High. Jasper _has_ to hear it." I roll my eyes. I can't help it. I'm so over Jasper.

"I don't want to go in there. That boy's trying to do things with my daughter I can't think about." He ducks his head under the hood, and I walk around the back of the car, taking a seat on the dusty concrete.

"Do you like him?" I ask. I know it's wrong, but I want him to say no.

"I, uh, there's no right answer here. But know what I would like? For all my boys to be at home and tell him what's what. Intimidate the hell out of him, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know. You know Edward's doing his best to fill in for them, right? He's pretty protective of her." _And me._

"Yeah?" He sounds genuinely surprised. "Well, good."

He works on the car, cursing under his breath when he drops a tool. I pick at the grommets on my Docs, then re-lace them. "How long do you think he'll stay?"

"Not long, I hope. The less time they're together, the less likely I'll have to kill him."

I laugh. I love Carlisle, even if he misconstrued my question. "Alice would not be happy about that," I say, "but that's not who I was talking about."

"Oh, Edward. Well, we didn't set a solid time frame. But he's doing better than we thought, so it's kind of . . . keep him here because he's doing so well, or . . . send him home because he's doing so well." He shrugs, the movement pulling at his sleeve, revealing his dragon tattoo.

"So you don't know."

He chuckles and swivels his head to me, tossing a small wrench at my feet since I'm being rude.

"Esme would not be happy if he left. I'll just say that. She adores that kid."

"And you don't?"

"Didn't say that." He averts his eyes.

"Okay."

He sighs, tucks a tool into his back pocket and straightens himself, walking toward me. He's tall, towering over me, making me crane my neck. I don't mind, though. He feels very fatherly like this. I like it.

"Remember when the boys . . . after they . . . and Esme cooked all the time, non-stop, making more than ever even though the boys were gone? And how Alice played that same CD of Riley's over and over?" Carlisle asks with a sigh, like he hates that his wife and daughter had to do such things.

"Yeah, and how you would come home and go straight in here to keep working on engines."

"Yeah. I just—I needed to have my head under a hood. I needed time to think. Space. We all did. We all did it in our own ways."

I remember. I used to sit in Riley's room and stare at the walls, remembering the way we laughed while playing Sega together. We all needed time to figure things out. And I think we finally have. Our lives feel normal again. Good. Except for Jasper imposing himself on us, anyway.

"I think—I like Edward. He's a good kid. But he's still figuring things out, Bella. He's got his head under the hood. I just don't know what he'll be like when he surfaces. Do you see what I'm saying?"

"So he's like recovering?"

"Yeah, sort of. Reinventing himself."

"I think that's great."

He sits beside me, bumping my shoulder. "I know you do. Just let him stay under the hood awhile, okay?"

"I'm not going to do anything. Why would I do anything?" I ask, because, really, what has he seen me do to think otherwise?

"He's got a lot of potential, but he's not Riley. He's got baggage."

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah," I say, but I'm not sure I really do.

"Just be careful. You're important to me, kid."

I smile and stand before we do something awkward like hug. "Are you going to come in?"

"No. I'm not telling Jasper anything. He kisses my only daughter."

"Fair enough," I say. "You want me to send Edward in when he's home from practice?"

"Sure." He stands and pats his pockets, pulling out his tool again. His grin grows. "On second thought, don't send him in. You two go break up their love fest in there."

I laugh and stand, opening the door. Edward's in the way, a juice jug attached to his lips. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. This close, I can see his stubble. "Hey."

"Hey," I say, looking around. Everyone's gone from the kitchen. "Do me a favor?"

"Yeah."

"Let me know when you're safely out from under the hood, all right?"

"Will do," he says, chuckling. I love that he has no idea what I'm talking about but he agrees to it.

"Are they in there?" I ask, pointing to the hall toward Alice's room.

"No, they made it to the couch. Don't go in there."

I make a face, and he laughs. I should do as Carlisle asks and break up their make-out, but I can't handle it. I know I'll do something I'll regret later. So instead: "Wanna go somewhere? I can't witness any more tonsil hockey."

"You don't want to wait until Alice's free?"

"Nah, I'm staying the night, anyway, so I'll have Alice all to myself later."

"Okay, let me grab my keys."

"I'll wait by the car."

"Under the hood?" he asks, a smirk spreading across his face.

"I'm not under there. Just you are."

"Right. Of course." He nods, smiling but baffled, and disappears toward his room.

**-OP-**

"What are you doing out here?" Edward asks, peeking around the corner, hand in his hair.

It's three in the morning, and I'm sprawled on the couch, a warm, fuzzy blanket wrapped around me.

"I'm watching TV."

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

"I have to pee."

I giggle at his abrupt words and departure. He's adorable when he wakes up, groggy and confused. His hair's always wild and tangled, needing to be smoothed back when he gets up.

He sits beside me, stealing a piece of my blanket and laying his head in my lap. We get closer every day, and not just physically, if I'm being honest. At first, it was a scary prospect, but I don't mind it now. He's proven himself, been consistent, which is more than I can say for most of my peers. I trust Edward in a way I haven't trusted anyone in a long time. Even so, I keep him at arm's length with my words and constant teasing.

"Did I invite you to do that?"

"No, but I'm freezing, and this mumbling TV woke me up, so . . ."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Instinctively, I rest my hand on his head and begin pulling my fingers through his unruly hair. It's softer than I expected, the strands thick but not wiry.

"What are we watching?" he says through a yawn.

"People making out."

"Porn? Awesome."

"Teenage porn. Jared Leto porn."

"Any naked girls?"

"Edward?"

"What?"

"Shut up and watch."

He closes his mouth and nuzzles into me when the My So-Called Life marathon returns. Angela and Jordan make out for the next eight minutes in the boiler room.

"You weren't kidding," Edward says, voice gruff with sleep.

"It's a good show." Why did it have to get cancelled?

"That girl's hot? Who is she?"

"Claire Danes. You think she's hot? She has no boobs."

"Sure she does. Every girl has boobs." He says it like it's obvious.

"Why are we talking about boobs?"

Edward turns his head, so he's looking at me. Only he's right under my boobs and not looking at me.

When his eyes reach mine, I can only laugh. "It's okay. I don't have any boobs either."

"Sure you do." His voice is playful, eyes bright with life in the dark room.

"I don't. Really." I've come to terms with it. They're small. It's all right.

"Bella, I've see you in your tank top without a bra on a million times. You have boobs. Plentiful boobs."

"Yeah?" Maybe I do. Maybe a B cup is plentiful in Edward's eyes. I know it is in Tyler's.

"Yeah."

"If you say so."

"I know so."

I run my hand through Edward's hair again, and he shivers. He drags my free hand across his chest and links our fingers.

A throat clears. I snap my head to the side. Alice is standing in the hallway watching us. "Really, Bella? After Riley I thought . . . forget it."

"We're not doing anything," I protest.

"Riley?" Edward asks.

I shrug.

"You have no respect for me," Alice says, hateful glare in her eyes.

I'd suspected all these years she thought Riley's death was my fault. Hell, I think it too at times. I was the one that kissed him. We'd been flirting for a year, and I thought he could handle a kiss; I was wrong. Though, he _had_ kissed me back. He'd liked it. It meant something to both of us, but the prospect of our relationship changing scared him. To get away and think, he forced himself on his brothers' night out. If it weren't for that kiss, he might not have panicked. He might still be alive today. But he's not. There's nothing I can do about that.

And the idea of not respecting Alice is laughable after all I've done for her, the way I cover for her. It's ridiculous.

"No respect." The words fall out harsh. "You kicked me out of your room so Jasper could sneak in, and I have no respect _for you_?"

"It's not my fault I'd rather be with him than you." Her venom stings my heart.

My throat grows tight. My eyes burn with unshed tears. I throw the blanket to the side, standing. Edward moves out of my way. I brush past him and Alice, heading for the door.

"I didn't mean it, Bella, I—"

I don't turn to look at her. I can't. "Yeah, you did. And Edward is my friend. He's been my friend for a long time because you keep ditching me for your boy toy."

"I love him," she says quietly. Like it justifies her behavior. Well, it doesn't.

"Good for you."

I close the door behind me, walking down the street barefoot without my sweater with winter around the corner. This is not a good idea. I'm not even to the stop sign when heavy footsteps fall behind me.

I stop and look both ways, though it's ridiculous in this tiny town. No one's out this late. Edward takes a moment to throw his hoodie over my shoulders. I slip my arms through the sleeves and pull it close around me, my head and shoulders shrinking as my tears fall.

Edward wraps his arms around me, and I cover my face, crying into his chest. I hate that he's seeing me this way.

"She's being selfish right now. Don't listen to her."

"She's all I have. My dad's so damn busy with the store, and my mom only calls to give me her dating report. No one gives a crap about me, Edward. No one."

"That's not true." He lifts my head and wipes my cheeks with his hands. He kneels down, pulls his shoes from his feet, and slips them onto my own. "Better?" he asks.

"Yes," I manage to whisper.

"You want me to get the car or you want to walk?"

"Will you walk with me?"

He holds out his hand, and I take it, following blindly behind him.

We hit the overpass, and, as usual, I take it head down, avoiding the view. Heights have freaked me out since Alec drove his brothers off a cliff, killing them all instantly.

"You okay? You're slowing down." He gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm fine."

He lifts my chin, catching my eyes. "Hey. Don't lie to me."

"I don't like heights," I admit.

"You're safe here. Come on."

He tugs on my arm, pulling me softly toward the chain link fence. I stare at his bare feet. They must be cold against the concrete, but he doesn't complain.

He looks through the fence, eyes wide, excited.

"Come here." He pulls me gently to him. I curl into his side, wrapping my arms around his waist. "It's not so bad, is it?"

"Not with you here."

"Good. I'm glad." He's quiet for a moment, then: "It's not so bad for me either. With you here." He's not just talking about the overpass, I don't think.

"Good. I'm glad," I mimic.

His hair blows around in the breeze, like red leaves curling around his forehead. I want to grip it in my hands and draw his face down to mine. But I don't. I don't. I can't.

I need a diversion, so I ask the first thing that pops into my head. "What are your parents like?"

"They are," he scrubs a finger over his eyebrow, "I don't know. My dad's a lawyer. Always working. Even when he's home. And my mom. She stays home; she's always there but never present."

"Does that bother you?" I ask, and he shrugs like it doesn't matter, but the crease between his eyebrows tells me otherwise. And I know all about that—feigning indifference even when something really bothers me. Or the opposite, when something, or someone, really matters to me. Like Edward.

"So Riley, huh?" he asks, diverting my train of thought.

"Yeah. We were really good friends, and at some point, I didn't want to be friends anymore, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know." His gaze is intense, and my fingers twitch, wanting to pull him closer.

"He died the night of our first kiss."

He makes a noise of discomfort but doesn't say anything. I prefer that to condolences.

"Sometimes I think all the people I love will eventually leave me. Just disappear. My mom, Riley, now Alice."

"Alice will always be around."

"How do you know? She doesn't even seem to like me anymore. I feel like a hindrance all the time."

"You're not a hindrance. I know a little something about that. I also know a little something about being alone. My mom's there, but she's been gone a long time. And when she tries to be there, it's like—too little, too late."

"Yeah, my dad's that way. When he's there, he's physically there, but he stopped trying to connect a long time ago."

"Maybe . . . I don't know . . . maybe we don't need lots of people. Maybe we just need one. And that's enough."

"Maybe," I say, my voice a hushed whisper, my eyes on his, my heart falling, walls crumbling down around his words.

When he walks me to my door, and I pass him his shoes and sweatshirt, I want nothing more than to stay in his warm arms or invite him in to watch TV on my couch so I can stroke his hair, but the timing's wrong. It's not time. Not yet. Especially not with Alice being the way she's been lately.

"Feel better, Bella." He hugs me, my head to his chest. He's so warm even though he walked here without a coat.

"I will. Thanks."

"Night," he says, hands stuffed in his hoodie's pockets. He smiles as he walks backward down my driveway. He turns finally with a small wave over his shoulder. And I know someone besides Alice cares about me. I just don't know how much. Or for how long.

**A/N:** I blame greedy reviewers for what happened to me this week. They demanded more Carlisle, and I caved. Though, honestly, we needed this addition. The story is better for it. So thanks! And thanks to my amazing team who preread/betad in a day. You're all awesome, yo.


	5. Chapter 5

**Playlist: Baby I Love Your Way by Emblem 3, ****Fall for You by Secondhand Serenade**

**Chapter 5**

**2008**

I told Alice I'd meet her at the back gate where we used to gossip between my band sets. I'm not keen on seeing anyone else quite yet, so I keep my head down, stay to myself. I take large strides through the crowds, hearing cheering already from all the teenagers in the stands above me. It's homecoming. I don't know whose brilliant idea it was to meet here for a reunion. Teenagers are loud and obnoxious. I'd rather be in a bar or a hotel ballroom than here, but I'm not in charge, so I don't complain.

The familiar smells of popcorn and wet trees invade my senses as I come closer to my destination. I turn my head up, smiling at the familiarity, but then my mouth gapes. There, beneath the dim light, under the bleachers is Edward Masen. His back's to me, but there's no mistaking that fall leaf red hair. That hair I used to grab and clutch for so many hours beneath these bleachers, on Alice's couch, on the overpass.

I blink, clearing my head. Maybe it's not him.

But it has to be.

He taps his toe, like he's impatiently waiting for someone. He turns, and when his eyes are on mine, his face warms with a smile. And my body heats with a familiar pull to him.

I thought I was past this. But I guess not.

**1996**

"So which one are we going to see? I don't want to stand out here all night," I whine.

I'm out with Jessica, Mike, and Eric. We roamed the mall doing nothing, and now we're going to see a movie, I think. I miss Alice. We haven't talked in weeks, and hanging out with her friends without her is agony, but I refuse to stay home and sulk while she sucks face with her boyfriend. So I go. I hang out. And it blows.

Jessica pops her gum, looking to Mike like he'll spontaneously choose a movie.

"Romeo and Juliet looks good," Mike says, eyeing me.

"No. Love is stupid. It turns people into idiots." Like Alice. Like my divorced parents. I sound so bitchy. I am.

Eric snorts but high fives me.

"Leonardo DiCaprio is hot," Jessica says, hoping to sway me.

"I want to watch something creepy." I cross my arms over my chest, rubbing them, trying to warm up. I should have worn a thicker coat.

Jessica's eyes light up, and I wonder why until I'm wrenched up, flipped, and hung over someone's shoulder.

"What the hell?" I bark, staring down the back of a guy wearing jeans and a flannel I recognize.

"Sorry. I'm going to borrow her," the familiar voice says. _Edward._

Jessica pouts as I get carried away.

"Why are you borrowing me?"

"You look like you're being tortured."

"I'm almost positive I was."

Edward sets me down by the passenger's side of his car. "Where do you want to go? I'm all yours." His grin gives me hope, like tonight won't be a bust.

"My dad's working late. We can watch a movie at my place. Do you like horror?"

"I love it," he says, laughing and heading to his side of the car.

**-OP-**

"That girl is so creepy. I think she's satanic," I say, cramming popcorn in my mouth.

"Which one? There's like fifty girls in this movie."

"That one. The mean one. Her. Her." I point to the screen when Fairuza Balk takes up most of it.

"Yeah, she's weird."

We sit on my couch watching The Craft, sharing popcorn and the brownies I made from scratch. We've been eating them straight from the pan with one fork. Edward's not once mentioned why he really stole me away or why he's here with me. And suddenly I feel like a charity case.

"You don't have to be here. You know that, right?"

"Is that your way of saying get the hell out?" He eyes me, takes a handful of popcorn and throws it into his mouth one piece at a time.

"I just don't get it. Why are you here?" _Why do you seem interested? I'm no one. _

"I just ate dinner with my boys, and then I had nothing to do."

"No, but why are you here with _me_?"

"Because I like you."

"You have your senior friends. And I'm a junior. And your cousin's ex best friend."

"You'll make up."

"Stop diverting. Why are you here?" I take a bite of brownie and point our fork at him, accusing him of something. Not sure what.

"I miss you. Life in Forks at my aunt and uncle's is boring when you're not in it. Honest enough for you?"

"If you're being honest. Yeah."

"When have I ever lied to you?" He takes our fork from my hand and pierces the brownies.

I think hard to come up with something. "You lied about your age."

He frowns. "When it mattered. I was just being a dork, trying to be in control of whatever this is."

"What is it?"

"What do you mean?"

Is he that dumb? Doesn't he feel this tension between us?

"This? Us? What is it?"

"You tell me." He raises his eyebrows, and I stare at them. They're full. They might even need a trim. I imagine him as an old man with gray eyebrows, torqued out and long, and I start to giggle.

"What?"

"Nothing." I picture a unibrow on him, and the giggle turns into a cackle.

"Stop laughing at me, jerk. What's your deal, you psycho?" He shoves my shoulder, and I nearly fall off the couch but catch myself. "Serves you right."

"I was just thinking about you old and stupid looking."

"You're old and stupid looking."

"At least my small boobs will be good for me then. Everyone else will be saggy baggy, and I will be perky." I nod triumphantly.

"You're obsessed with boobs."

"Someone told me they shrunk once." I wait for his response, but none comes. He knows I wasn't affected by that joke. "Look, I'm surrounded by pretty girls with perfect breasts and perfect bodies, and I look like a boy." I say it with sass to prove it doesn't bother me, that I'm just joking, but I'm not. And, as usual, he sees right through me.

"Why are you so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure." I want to cross my arms over my chest, but I keep still. I'm not going to give away anything.

It's he who busts up next. I don't think it's funny. In fact, it kind of pisses me off, so I shove him, pushing him off the couch.

"It's not funny," I say as I pummel his back.

"You're right. It's ridiculous."

"No one takes me seriously."

"Why would they, Bella? You're gorgeous."

I roll my eyes, but then his words reach me on a conscious level and I: "Wha-what?"

He sits up beside me, his shoulder bumping mine. His eyes are trained on the TV. Girls are trying to kill each other with magic, but I can't focus on that. I stare at Edward's strong jaw, but I want to see his piercing green eyes.

"If you don't see it, you're blind." He turns, his eyes now searching my face. "I see it. Everyday. Since the day I came here. And it's not just that you're pretty, you're—I don't even—you're something else entirely."

I promised myself after what happened with Riley I'd never make the first move ever again, but promises to oneself can be broken, right?

I hope so.

I place my hand on Edward's jaw, rubbing at the stubble there with my thumb. He leans in and I lean in and then our lips touch.

Warm. Soft. Full. Hot.

I break away, ducking my head afraid of what I'll see, but when I lift my eyes to his, he's smiling softly, like he knows something I don't.

"You got a room here?"

"Yeah," I say, tucking some hair behind my ear.

He nods his head upward, and I stand, pulling him to my room. The door closes behind me with a soft click. I turn on my nightstand lamp, and he scans my room. It has band posters like his, only not as many, and my wall's painted an emerald green. His eyes pop against it when he faces me, a small mischievous smile on his face. I want to kiss that grin away or maybe make it wider.

He checks out my music collection in the small CD tower on the floor. He takes out a CD and flashes the cover to me. "Really? Mariah Carey? I cannot kiss someone who listens to Mariah Carey."

I grin at his declaration and saunter to him, pry it from his hands, and chuck it in the trash. "It's Alice's."

"Oh, thank you, Jesus," he says, arms up in mock worship.

I shake my head at his silliness and wonder what we'll be doing in here. I'm thinking it involves my bed.

"So about this hood thing," he says, picking up another CD and setting it back down, "am I out from under it?"

"I hope so," I say, but I don't really care at this point if he is or if he isn't.

"Hope is good," he says, before pushing me onto the bed and kissing me until my lips are swollen and my eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep. But I don't care because I feel alive and happy, happier than I've been in a long time. It may have something to do with the fact that my hands are in Edward's hair, and I get to grab and pull, moving his head any which way I want. It's awesome.

We're on our backs, hands linked above our heads. He's absently playing with my fingers.

"When's the last time you lit up?" I ask.

"Who cares? This is better than a high," he says, turning to me with a grin and a small kiss.

"Do you miss it?"

"Most days, yeah. Seattle, too. I wonder what my friends are doing. What kind of trouble I'm missing out on, but then I think about you, and I'm glad I'm here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you make things . . . better."

I curl into his side and smooth kisses over his neck, enjoying the roughness of his facial hair against my lips. I've never kissed such a hairy guy before.

"I should go."

"Okay," I say, through a sigh.

"Hey, I think you should know . . ." He props himself up so he's looking down at me, eyes serious. _Oh, no. What?_ "I can't—I'm not the boyfriend type. I can give you this, but I'm not—"

Is that it?

"That's fine. Just be honest with me, and we'll figure it out. Okay?"

"Okay," he says, staring at the ceiling. He looks like he's lost his high, deep in thought.

Now I wonder what he's thinking. Why doesn't he want to be exclusive? But he's right: I'm insecure, and I'll take what I can get, even if it's not love. Not that I really believe in love. With all the poor examples around me, how could I? It seems stupid. For fools. Fools like Romeo and Juliet who ended up dead. I'd rather live and kiss Edward than find love and die for it. It's as simple as that.

"We can make out again, though, right?" I ask.

"How about right now?" One heavy leg drapes over me, followed by another until he's hovering. He lowers himself slowly, eyes on me the whole time. His body weight feels good, his hands on my face, warm and comforting, but nothing compares to his lingering kisses that build and build until I feel like I have nowhere to go but float into the sky and spontaneously combust.

**A/N:** Reviews are better than being under a hood.

Overpass is on The Lemonade Stand for Fic of the Week. Please take the time to vote for your favorite fic. The link is on my profile page if you need it.

I'm enjoying seeing some familiar "faces" in my reviews. It's nice to "see" you again, and thanks for taking the time to let me know how this journey's going for you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Playlist: ****Twist in My Story by Secondhand Serenade, Wonderwall by Oasis****  
**

**Chapter 6**

**2008**

"Hi," he says, loping toward me, sure of himself.

"Hi," I say quietly, unable to keep a smile at bay. But what I should really do is haul back and clock him in the face.

"You're talking to me." He fiddles with his belt loops nervously. Maybe he's not so sure after all.

"I'm an adult."

"Right. Right." He nods his head and takes another step, reaching out his arms like he might wrap them around me, but he diverts them, running them through his hair and down into his back pockets.

"Why are you here? You're not class of ninety-eight. You're not even a Forks High graduate."

"I knew you'd be here."

What the hell? I say it with my eyes, I think, because he answers my unspoken question.

"Aunt Esme and I keep in touch. Always have. And Alice and I reconnected a while ago."

"Mmm. She's here, right?"

"Yeah. She's in the stands saving us seats."

"You're staying?"

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

"It was your high school, too, Edward."

"Yeah. It was once, wasn't it?"

I look him up and down, not ashamed of myself. He was always attractive, but this guy before me—this man—is GQ beautiful even in his plain tee and roughed up jeans. He had always been casual and always pulled it off. I'd been all men's shirts and baggy jeans, wearing nothing flattering ever. Gone are those days.

The years were kind to my figure, filling me out in ways I didn't think were possible when I was younger. And I've taken advantage of it, putting my best features to work in my nicer wardrobe. I started out slowly of course. Beginning in college with tighter fitting shirts and pants that didn't need a belt.

As an adult, I no longer think about what I'm wearing, so long as I am comfortable and I look nice. And by the way Edward's gaze is fixated on me, I'd say I do. Not that I need him to tell me that.

**1996**

I'm underneath the football stadium bleachers straddling Edward's lap, fingers deep in his hair, tongue deep in his mouth. His hands are splayed on my back, his thighs pushing me up, higher. We've been meeting here almost daily during my study hour and his lunch to talk and make out—mostly make out.

He places soft kisses down my throat, my head tilting back, giving him space.

"Is Alice going to the winter formal?"

"Of course she is," he murmurs against my skin.

"Does she have a dress yet?"

"I don't know this shit, Bella." He pulls back and shakes his head, laughing at my question. "I wish you two would kiss and make up. It's annoying as all hell and stupid."

"She was mean to me."

"I know. I agree. I just—can't you talk to her? I know she'd apologize. For real."

"But then I wouldn't have all the time after school to suck face with this really hot senior in my bedroom."

"That would be bad." He runs his hands up my back, gripping my shoulders. Like I'm his. Like I can't go anywhere. I don't want to.

"Real bad."

He smirks and coaxes my mouth open with his tongue. I can't believe I've become a teenage cliché, but I couldn't care less. Edward is stellar at kissing.

"I have to get a dress," I say between kisses.

"For what?"

"The dance."

"Are we going to the dance?" he asks, smiling.

"Well, I'm going."

He pulls back, eyes full of concern or anger. Jealousy. Something.

"Mike asked me."

"Oh, well if Mike asked you . . ."

"What was I supposed to say? 'I can't go. I have a boyfriend.' Because that would be a lie. I have an Edward. That's it."

"That's it?" He drops his hands from my back. His jaw clenches.

"You know what I mean."

"I know." He stands, and I tumble slightly as he does so, trying to get to my feet.

"Edward? Do you want to—"

"No, I don't. I told you I'm not a good person from the start, okay? It's no big deal. I was thinking about asking Heidi anyway."

"Heidi?"

"Heidi."

"Are you going to kiss her?"

He shrugs. Then: "Are you going to kiss Mike?"

"Ew. How can you even ask me that?"

"How can you say yes to a dance invitation from Mike?"

"Because he asked me." My voice is unrecognizable. Shrill and irritated.

"Whatever." He leaves me beneath the bleachers to pack up my stuff and head to my next class.

If this is what it's like having a non-boyfriend, I'd hate to see how difficult it is to have a real boyfriend.

**-OP-**

Angela convinced me to help the dance committee with decorations and whatnot. At first, I refused, but once I realized Alice was in the group, I decided to hell with it. She needs to see I can move past her. Besides, of all my "friends," I like Angela the best. She's thoughtful and non-judgmental. I admire both of those things.

I'm with Angela and the rest of the crew, hanging up ugly streamers, when my hip beeps.

Edward's number pops up on the small screen. He was grumpy all day today, wouldn't even kiss me.

He's been acting bi-polar since our argument, pouting one minute and laughing and kissing me the next. It's getting on my nerves. He's the one that doesn't want to be exclusive, so why do I have to put up with his lame-ass attitude for saying yes to Mike? I don't understand boys.

Besides, it's been nearly two weeks. Get over it already. Or do something about it.

I ignore the page and finish up with Angela, doing my best to pretend Alice's loud laughter from across the gym isn't bothering me.

When I get home, the door's unlocked. Music pours from my room, something angry and edgy I haven't heard before. Most likely something Edward's Seattle friends sent to him, one of their little love notes in the form of a mixed tape, or in this case, a CD.

He's sprawled out on my bed, feet dangling off the edge, his large, yellow math textbook beneath his arm, a notebook to the side. He's working diligently, it seems. Then again, he always does. Boy gets all his homework done in record time every day so he can have more "playtime" with me. Or so he says. Though, as far as I can tell, he's always finished his homework quickly and never had a problem. He's smart, that's for sure, and I like that he doesn't gloat. I also like that he likes time with me and tells me so.

"What's the band?" I say over the top of the screaming lead singer.

He turns, startled. "You don't know 'em," he says, like it's my fault, like it's something to be ashamed of.

"Nice to see you, too, Edward."

"Don't get pissy with me. I came right after school. You were the one that wasn't here. I paged you. Where were you?"

"Angela roped me in to decorate for the—"

"I get it."

"Can you turn this down?" I have a headache. Forcing a smile and pretending to have a good attitude while watching Alice play nice with others—who weren't me—will do that.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is it bothering you?" His false tone is not appreciated.

"Yeah." I nod my head, a bit irritated with his attitude. "Don't be a jerk."

His eyes catch mine, and I see them soften. "She was there, huh?"

"Yep."

"You talk to her yet?"

"No."

He sighs, turns down the stereo with the remote, and reaches out to me. I tuck myself into his side, and he continues his AP calculus homework.

I stroke his arm and wind my fingers into his hair while he crunches numbers. I want to kiss him, find some solace for my crappy day, but I'm not sure if that's okay since he was angry when I first got here.

"I'm glad you're here," I whisper and kiss his bicep.

He leans to the side and puts his mouth to mine.

"I can't believe the winter dance is already this weekend. Doesn't it feel like it was just Halloween?"

"No," he says, leaving me abruptly. He changes out the CD; Gwen Stefani's unseasoned tone fills my room. This album is old school.

The meaning behind the lyrics revs me up. So does the way Edward's looking at me, like he'd rather I was wrapped around him.

When he's back on my bed, his body pressed against mine, he kisses me like he wants to kill me. I don't mind. I kind of like a pissed off Edward. I wonder if this is what he's like when he's messed up, high on pot or whatever else he's done before. But mostly, I wonder why he won't just make us a couple. I'd like to ask him why, but I don't. Instead, I put the thought behind me and just feel.

**-OP-**

The night of the dance, Mike picks me up. He's in a suit, hair slicked back. I managed to find a plain deep blue velvet number with only one bow in the back and a slit to my knee. Mike smiles broadly when he sees me and carts me around on his arm, proud that I'm his date, I guess. Know who's not proud that I'm his date? Jessica. That's who. And I wish she'd said something earlier because I would have told him no and avoided this whole fiasco.

We walk the perimeter of the gym, chatting with friends. Alice is never far away, but we avoid each other, though I do catch her checking out my dress occasionally. I wonder if she likes it. I like hers. It's perfectly Alice—flamboyant and sexy and bold. Leopard print never looked so good on a girl before.

I smile despite myself, and she catches me. We exchange a look and go back to our dates.

I'm in Mike's arms swaying to some bad Brian Adams ballad when I first see him—Edward. He never confirmed that he had, in fact, invited Heidi. But she's on his arm, so it appears he has. She's stunning in deep red, the hem of her dress hitting her thighs. Jealousy cuts through me when I realize what a gorgeous couple they make.

He catches my eye and whispers something in her ear. My throat feels raw, like there are thumb tacks scraping the inside, and I can't breathe. I excuse myself and bolt to the bathroom.

I hide in the stall but can't keep my sobs in.

A soft knock on my door alerts me to someone else's presence.

"Are you okay?" _Alice._

I open the door and wipe my nose with my hand. "I've only been here half an hour, and I'm crying. Doesn't the crying happen at the end of the dance?"

"He warned you, right? He told you he doesn't do this?"

"He told me. I know it. I didn't think—I didn't—"

"Do you love him?"

"No." It's immediate, but I want to take the words back as soon as I say them. What is love? How can I know if I love him if I don't know what love is? "I don't think so. I don't know."

"He cares about you. I know he does."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's been an ass to me since I was an ass to you. I'm so sorry, Bella. So so sorry. You can be with whoever you want. And I can, too. We just need to find a balance. _I_ need to find a balance. To make time for other people in my life that matter—like you."

"I miss you, Alice."

We throw our arms around each other and sob half in/half out of the filthy bathroom stall.

We clean ourselves up and enter the gym again, hand-in-hand. We dance together and have a good time. I do my best to ignore Edward, but when I take a break outside to cool down, he's there, and I can't ignore him any longer.

"Having fun?" he asks, looking at the moon.

"Yeah."

"I saw you with Alice."

"I saw you with Heidi. You never said for sure you were coming."

"Yeah, well, I was. I'm here."

"I see that."

"Mike's sure holding you close."

"And Heidi looks like a slut."

"What's it to you?"

"What's it to you if Mike holds me close?"

His eyes slam to mine, and his jaw tightens before he speaks. "Dammit, this is why I didn't want to do this. I don't want to fight with you. I don't want—"

"What, Edward, you don't want what?"

"This."

My hands fly out wide, annoyed that I don't understand what he's saying. "Anger? Hatred? Jealousy? What?"

"Passion," he counters and pushes me against the brick wall, his thigh between my legs. "Mike better not touch you."

"If you put one hand on Heidi, I'm going to cut it off."

His lips are on mine. Hot and unyielding. His hands ruin my hair in seconds, hairpins landing on the ground with a soft plink, plink. He grips my thigh in his hand, ripping the slit, making it higher. "You make me so . . ."

"What?" I ask, the words a whisper against his jaw.

"You make me feel like . . . forget it."

"What were you saying?"

"I don't know." He exhales, the anger falling away. In its place, a peace. Like we know where we stand. He grins lazily and smoothes soft kisses down my neck.

The gym door creaks open, and a throat clears. Edward pulls away, rubbing his lips. Mrs. Sanderson stands with her hands on her hips admonishing us to move it or else without actually saying the words.

Going back indoors blows since I have to spend it with Mike and watch Edward dance with Heidi. However, my attention shifts a bit when Jasper pulls me into his arms to dance.

"She's really sorry, you know. Couldn't stop talking about it. She misses you."

"I miss her."

"Are you going to be okay? I don't to want to be the guy that—"

"You didn't do anything. We just let things get away from us. We aren't . . . I mean, Alice and I have been friends for a long time. I don't think even something as big as first love can keep us apart."

"Love? She said that?" He beams, standing a little taller, making me stretch my arms.

"Why don't you ask her about that?" I say, chuckling.

"Or maybe I'll just tell her I love her instead."

"That'd probably be best. You know Alice."

"I do." His grin is wide. Love has made a fool of him. But in the best way possible.

"I'm glad, Jasper. Really."

The dance winds down with Alice and Jasper at my side. Oh, and Mike, which is disappointing. But I do have my best friend back, and I'm pretty sure Edward's all mine, too. Maybe going to the dance wasn't a bad idea after all.

**A/N: **My fabulous readers made a concerted effort to get Overpass on the top five at The Lemonade Stand. Sadly, we missed the boat. Maybe another time. Though, it's not for nothing because I have seen some new readers. Hi! And thank you!

Please stick around and let me know what you think. Reviews are better than sucking face under the bleachers with your non-boyfriend.


	7. Chapter 7

**Playlist: ****Show Me What I'm Looking For by Carolina Liar, I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers **

**Chapter 7**

**2008**

Alice bounds down the stadium toward us and envelops me in a hug. "Bella, hi! Eeee!

"What the hell is he doing here?" I hiss in her ear.

"Trust me," she whispers.

"I trust you. Him. Not so much. Not anymore."

Edward gets distracted with an old football buddy of his. I take the chance to attack Alice.

"What is going on?"

"You need to get out. It's been a year."

"I know it's been a year. And I am out, but Edward? Why in the hell would you possibly think—"

"I'm gonna head up," Edward says, poking his head into our view.

"Ooh, me too," Alice says, pushing herself ahead of Edward and pulling me behind her.

Once we're in our row, Alice sits and starts squealing again. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Jasper waves from her side. "Hey."

"Hi, Jasper. And, Alice we talk, like, every week." I'm so irritated.

"I know, but you're here in the flesh." She grabs my hand and yanks me down beside her. There's nowhere for Edward to go except next to me. It's a little awkward but not necessarily unwelcome. I can be mature about this.

He sits comfortably enough, cheering on the team and singing the fight song with us all when we score.

We spot a few recognizable faces but not many. Most of our classmates moved on and never came back. Myself included. Alice, too. She lives in Seattle with Jasper. They have two girls who are staying with a friend for the weekend.

"Alice says you're in Seattle again," I say, making small talk.

"Yeah, I finished my PhD, and I'm teaching now. Go huskies," he says lamely.

"All right."

"Do you enjoy your work in Miami?"

How does he know I work in Miami? What has Alice told him?

"Yeah. Copy editing is copy editing. But I like the beach."

"Really? I can't imagine you being the beach type. You were never one for conventional swim suits."

I turn to face him, my knee bumping his. "I can't believe you just said that."

He shrugs. The football team scores, and Edward points to the field, eyes wide, and hollers in celebration. I clap but keep my eyes on him all the while. This is surreal.

**1996**

"Bells, you need any help in here?"

"I'm fine. I clean the bathrooms every Saturday." I smile at Dad. That was awfully sweet of him to offer. Sweet and rare. I go back to scrubbing the countertop, washing his whiskers down the drain. So gross.

"I'm gonna watch the game then." He disappears down the hall.

I turn up the music in my room, the local rap station blaring. I sweep the floor and scrub out the bathtub, humming. I can't clean without music.

"I like the way you work it," I sing, now cleaning the toilet. "I got to bag it up. I like the way you work it—"

"No diggity."

I jump, the sound right at my ears.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, turning, smiling at the goof behind me. We were supposed to meet later on the overpass.

"I came to hear you rap, apparently. Blackstreet and Dr. Dre? Really?"

"The tempo keeps me on task. It'd take me an hour if I was working with Lysol and Jewel."

"Jewel." He says it with distaste and a scowl.

"Don't you need your soul saved?"

"That's what I have you for." He places his hands on my hips and leans in, giving me a smooth kiss. I keep my hands off since they're covered in toilet water and chemicals. "I do not miss this."

"What?"

"Chores."

"You don't do chores for Esmom?"

"Not really."

"What chores did you have at home?"

"Mostly lame ones. We have a maid, so—"

"A maid? What kind of life do you live, Edward? Holy crap, and why aren't you taking me out on expensive dates?"

"I told you my dad was a lawyer . . . money. And, um, because you'd hate those kind of dates. Anyway, so I had to keep my room clean and picked up, but even that I'm bad at. You've seen my room." He gives me an embarrassed grin.

"It's not too bad."

"Tell that to my mom and the maid."

"So why don't you do chores for Esmom?"

"Oh, well, we made a deal early on. I have to spend time with Carlisle in the shop every so often, and if I stay clean, I don't have to do anything around the house. Alice bitches about it. She has to do my laundry." He chuckles and plays with my hair.

"You've been clean the whole time you've been here?"

"Yep."

"That's pretty cool."

He shrugs.

"What's it like? Being high or stoned or whatever?"

"You've never tried anything?"

"Someone handed me a cigarette freshman year. It was disgusting. That was the end of that."

"You're the most innocent person I know."

"I live in Forks. It's not like that stuff's around here."

"It's everywhere. You just have to know where to find it."

"Oh, and you know that kind of stuff?"

"I do." He doesn't elaborate, and I don't want him to. I wonder vaguely if he's purchased anything. Does he have a stash in his room? Would he be using it if I wasn't around? No, I wasn't much in his life when he first moved here, and he didn't do it then.

"You're thinking too hard. Look, I made a deal with Esme, and I've kept it. No worries."

"I'm not worried. I just find it interesting."

"Okay. So, are you almost done? It's my last day. Is this how you want to spend it?"

"Just don't go."

"Yeah and have my mother drive down here, dragging me by the ear."

I wash my hands, smirking, and he catches my reflection.

"You like that image, don't you?"

"I love it." _Or maybe I just love you._

"Mmm. I love this." He lifts me onto the counter and pulls me to the edge, stepping between my legs, his mouth meeting mine. "You ready to go?"

"Yes."

Dad waves goodbye from the couch as we head out for our last hoorah.

**-OP-**

When Edward and I return from our day out, we find Esme in the living room, tree lit up, carols blazing.

"Look out. Here it comes," I murmur.

"Here what comes?" he asks.

Esme grins and skips to us, singing along to the old man crooning from the stereo system. "We wish you a Merry Christmas," she trills and pulls Edward by the hand, forcing him to dance.

"I call it Christmas vomit," I say.

"You, be quiet," Esme admonishes.

"It's so gross," I say, but honestly I love it. I adore that the Cullens go all out for Christmas.

"Carlisle, come dance with Bella. She needs a partner," she calls over her shoulder into the kitchen.

Edward's eyes pop when his ever-cool uncle approaches me, gingerly takes my hand, and twirls me around the living room. "Don't be jealous, Edward, Bella's been dancing with me for years."

"It's true," Esme says, smiling at us.

"Where's Ali?" Carlisle asks.

"Her room."

"With him?"

"Yes," she says sternly, like leave it alone.

"Alice, come enjoy Christmas vomit!" Carlisle barks down the hall.

Edward and I chuckle together. I wonder how his family does Christmas. My dad orders a turkey and mashed potatoes and buys a few things from the gift list I write for him.

"I'm busy, Dad," Alice calls from her room.

"Now, young lady, or your friend is going home!"

There's some fumbling down the hall, and Alice and Jasper appear. His hair's a disaster. Edward and I share a look and try not to let our laughter escape. We know exactly what was going on in that room.

"Here, dance with Bella," Carlisle says to Jasper. I don't think I've ever heard him call Jasper by name.

"No way," Edward interjects, cutting in before Jasper can reach me.

Esme smiles kindly and reaches out her hand for Jasper to take. Alice throws her arms petulantly over her dad's shoulders. Sometimes I wish I could slap her and tell her how great she has it.

"Why can't I dance with _my_ boyfriend?" she asks.

"Because I want a minute with my own daughter. Is that too much to ask?"

"Is it too much to ask that you not embarrass me?"

"Honey, no one should be embarrassed," Esme says.

"No one wants to dance with their parents to Christmas carols. Do they, Bella?"

"Um, they're cool parents, so . . ." _I don't mind._

"You're in your room too much. You need to get out in the light of day," Carlisle says.

"I am out." Alice won't even look at her dad.

"You know you could entertain your guests in another room." Carlisle twirls Alice, and while she's closer to Jasper she smiles at him.

"I do. Bella and I were out here playing cards just last night," Alice says.

"I'm not talking about Bella."

"You're being a hypocrite. Mom tells me stories, you know. You were younger than I was when you were sneaking in her room."

Carlisle takes a deep breath, trying to keep calm. He's not a very explosive person, but I've seen him shout before. Mostly with the boys when they were cutting classes and such.

He turns his attention to Jasper and addresses him. "My daughter is grounded tomorrow. And the punishment starts now."

Jasper looks to Esme who nods. "Thanks for the dance, Esme."

"You're welcome, Jasper. We'll see you in a few days."

"Mom, you can't do this. We were going to go ice skating."

"You'll go later," Carlisle says, and that's the end of it.

Japser leaves, Alice storms off, and Edward and I park ourselves in the living room while Esme moves around some decorations. Carlisle stands still in the middle of our once-happy dance floor, hands in his back pockets.

"Girls are so complicated," he says, sighing.

"Boys are complicated, too," Esme says.

"They never talked back to me the way she does."

"No, they just hit you."

He scrubs his hand over his stubble. "Man, I forgot that. That time Alec sucker punched me. It was a good hit," he says, longing in his voice, like the memory was a great one. Carlisle had an ugly black eye after that.

"Remember how Royce totally tattled on him after that so he wouldn't get punished, too? I bet it was his idea to take those girls camping with no one's permission. He was such a trouble maker." Esme sits next to the tree and smoothes out the gold skirt.

"I remember Riley crying and crying because he didn't get to go. We all knew about the campout," I say.

"It was a conspiracy," Carlisle says, slinging an arm around me and patting Edward's shoulder. "Don't let this one fool you. She's sweet as can be but smart as a whip. Just look out."

"Yes, sir," Edward says and eyes me, like he knows it's true. Like I'm something special.

"I like this sir stuff. All right, Esme, we can keep him."

"Best Christmas gift ever. A fourth son." She claps from her place on the floor.

"Aw, you're one of us," I say, pinching Edward's cheeks.

He takes a throw pillow and smothers my face with it. It doesn't even bother me. Edward and Esme begin a sing-a-long as I laugh behind the soft cushion. Carlisle wiggles his way beneath it with me and whispers insults about their singing. We giggle together when Edward hits a high note. Carlisle's laugh reminds me of Riley's—a cute stilted sort of chuckle. I don't know why Alice gets so upset with him. He's amazing.

**-OP-**

Our hands swing back forth as we walk slowly to my house. He leaves first thing in the morning. I don't want him to go. I didn't realize how much until now. This moment. I joked about it earlier, but now? Now, I actually want it. I want him to stay.

"Are you gonna miss me?" he asks. I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Eh," I say.

He squeezes my hand and drops his eyes to the ground as we make our way onto the overpass. We're silent again, the weight of what's going to happen soon falls heavy on my shoulders. He'll leave. And I'll be alone. Again.

My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry. He's coming back; this is silly. I clear my throat, and his head swivels to look at me.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yep, why?" I fiddle with my hair, trying to calm myself down.

"Alice does that when she's trying not to cry."

"Oh," I say, and that's it. He doesn't push it. I'm glad. I hate admitting my weaknesses.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to the side of the walkway to peer through the chain link fence. "It's only a little while," he says, but the tone of his voice makes me wonder if he's saying it for me or for him.

I turn to face him fully, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him. "Are you gonna miss me?"

"Eh," he says, a smirk on his face. He lowers his lips to mine, and we make out on the overpass until I _really_ need to get home.

We take our death march to my house, and I unlock the door with his arms around my waist, his chin on my shoulder. I head inside and remove my coat, hanging it on a hook.

"Have fun in Seattle." Could I sound more morose?

"Yeah," he says, head against the doorjamb. He looks as pitiful as I feel.

I kiss him one last time and whisper a quick "Bye, Edward," before shutting the door so I can cry in private.

Once I'm in my room, I let the tears fall, but they're quickly tamped down when there's a ping, ping at my window.

My mouth goes wide in a grin as I scramble to unlock the latch and slide the window open. He leans up, gripping my neck roughly with his hand, and kisses me passionately, commanding my mouth. It makes my body so, so warm and my heart so, so full. Why does he have to leave?

"Hey," he breathes against my lips.

"Hey," I say, just as quietly.

"I will miss you."

"Me, too," I say, and then he's gone.

**-OP- **

Christmas at home is boring, but my annual slumber party with Alice is not.

I'm laid out on her bed, wearing new fleece pajamas. I was so delighted when I got them. They remind me of a blanket on Edward's bed. I've been fondling them all night. "I didn't think it would be this hard," I whine, cramming a Ho Ho into my mouth.

"I know. This is why I couldn't talk with you about Jasper. You just wouldn't have gotten it."

"I wouldn't have. I didn't."

"You'll survive. He'll be home in a few days."

"It feels like a freaking century."

Alice fiddles with the chenille blanket on her lap, twisting the fringe. "So I told you Jasper said he loves me, and I've been wanting to tell you something else. For a while now." She peeks up, her eyes shy but excited.

"You slut," I say.

Her smile starts slow but then explodes over her face, eyes bright with glee.

"When?" I demand. "Tell me everything. Does it hurt? Where were you? I can't believe you didn't tell me. Does Esmom know?"

"It was weeks ago. I just wanted it to be for us, you know. And I promised my mom I'd tell her first."

"Your mom is so cool. Does Carlisle know?"

"Ha! Yeah, right. I'd like Jasper to keep his penis, thank you very much." We bust up laughing and cover our mouths to keep quiet. "We were at his house one day doing homework, and he kept running his hand up and down my leg, like it was nothing. Just back and forth. But it was making me all tense. In a good way. And I turned to tell him to stop it, but, instead, I kissed him. Hard. Oh my gosh, it was the hottest kiss ever and just did not stop, and our hands were everywhere, and then our clothes, and the next thing I knew, I was losing my virginity on his mother's kitchen table."

"His table?"

"I'm such a slut," Alice says, giggling hysterically.

"Way to go. I always knew you'd be unconventional." We high five, and she grabs my hand, sitting up tall, eyes growing serious.

"Neither one of us have, you know, before, so we went really slow and tried to figure it out. There was so much giggling, but also, like, panting. It gets so hot. It's, like, exercise."

"Did you use something?"

"Don't tell my mother," she says, pointing a finger in my face. "I've been on the pill as long as you have, and I trust him. And based on his performance . . ." She cringes at the insult. "I know he's a virgin. So I wasn't worried about anything."

"That sounds intimate." I don't know what else to say.

"It is, but anyway, what you asked . . . I can't lie. It hurt, but only for a moment, and then it's like, you love him so much, it's out of your mind, and all you think about is the connection. It's so amazing."

"I can't wait," I say, and I mean it.

"I'm so excited for you," she says and squeals.

My pager buzzes on her nightstand. It's Edward. "He beckons me," I say and go to his room to use his phone.

"Hey, pretty girl."

"Hey. I miss you so much more than I thought I would. Is that dorky?" I lie down and pull up his blanket, fingering the soft fleece while we talk.

"Hell, no, I can't stop thinking about you. I miss everything about you." His words are slow and even. Cool.

"You do?"

"I do. I miss the way your hair slips through my fingers while I'm kissing your neck and the way your thighs start to shake when I'm between them."

The room is stifling all of a sudden. I throw off his blanket and open his window. Once back on his bed, I twirl my hair like he does sometimes late at night after we've been kissing for hours. I wish he was here.

"I miss the way your stomach tenses up when I lick it." What is he doing? He never talks to me like this. "Damn, I want you."

"Well, why don't you come home?" I ask boldly.

"I can't. I shouldn't drive like this."

"Like this? What do you mean?"

His even breathing is the only thing that lets me know he's still on the phone. He's silent for minutes.

"I should go."

"Edward, I'm not mad . . . I—"

"It's—I'm gonna go. I'll see you in a few days. Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. Bring me home a good kiss, all right?"

His laugh is low, different, and for a minute I'm nervous for him until: "I can do that."

"Goodnight."

"Bye, Bella."

The loneliness I feel when his voice is gone catches me off guard. I'm not used to it. Being alone is normal for me. Feeling dependent on someone is not. I wonder briefly if this is what love is: feeling the need for someone else. Like you'll die if they're not with you.

But I simply don't know if that's a proper definition. I've never had an example of love in my home. Carlisle and Esme seem to love each other, but they also bicker over stupid things like the price of out-of-season oranges and whose turn it is to write Esme's mother a letter. Maybe a better definition is mutual respect. Maybe that's what love is. And if so, I love Edward, I guess.

I head back to Alice's room, and she asks me about the phone call. "I think he's on something."

"I was worried about that. Mom said he doesn't have such great friends there."

"How much do you know?"

"I know he cleaned up before he got here. Mom wouldn't let him stay unless he was clean already. And as far as I know, he hasn't done anything since he's been here."

"He hasn't," I say emphatically. At least, I don't think he has. And I have no reason to doubt him.

"Well, what did he say?"

"He said he loves my boobs and can't wait to pop my cherry."

Alice's eyes are wide, and she's holding back laughter. "Now who's the slut?"

"At least I'm smart enough not to have to pull splinters from my butt after my first time."

"I didn't say anything about splinters; it's a strong, solid table," she argues, but she's laughing, too.

**-OP-**

We're at First Beach making out, hot and heavy in his car. He's been on me nonstop since he got home, and I do not mind. His lips run over my cheek to my ear where he sucks my lobe into his mouth. His hands roam more than usual. I don't mind that either. He leans back, taking in my eyes and lifts my shirt, feather-light fingers over my stomach. "I missed you," he says. It's a whisper.

"I gather that," I say, laughing.

"I don't think you do." His mouth is on mine. Unyielding and strong, his hands gripping my hips, lifting me onto his lap.

This kiss is different than the others. It's moving us forward. But where? Toward love? Toward sex? I have no idea. I don't know anything about either. Though at least I've been taught the mechanics of sex. Love is more of an uncertainty. And it makes me nervous, makes me want to stop what we're doing.

"Do you want to go for a swim?" I ask, his lips on my collarbone.

"It's freezing."

"You'll keep me warm."

"We don't have swim suits."

"Who needs swim suits?" I pull my shirt from my torso without any qualms. I raise my eyebrow, and he starts to strip, smile on his face. I alternate removing pieces of clothing and sneaking peeks at the beautiful boy next to me. Football players have the best stomachs. The best everything.

He catches me and laughs. "You better look now, because when it's cold, it's not going to be this big. And that's embarrassing."

"Are you serious?"

"Go ahead and look."

I do, but then I wrench open the door and run straight into the prickling cold surf, screaming.

"Shit, shit, shit," he chants and pulls me under the water with him.

There, beneath the stars, wrapped up in Edward's warm arms with his body pressed to mine, I know for sure I'm in love with him. I feel it. But I can't bring myself to say it. He can't even admit to the conversation we had while he was gone, so I can't imagine how he'd respond to such bold words.

But it's his words that shock me.

"This, being here with you, is so much better than my life in Seattle. I wasn't supposed to stay here this long. My mom wants me to come home."

My eyes dart to his, and he frowns, looking out into the black horizon.

"I told her my life was here. It's here because of you."

His mouth covers mine, and he carries me out of the frigid water and wraps me up in blankets in the backseat of the car. Momentarily, I wonder if this is where my story will take place. But it's not. My virginity is not taken tonight. Just my heart.

**A/N: **Reviews are better than skinny dipping with Edward. Okay, I can't even type that without giggling, but they're still fun to get. Please share your thoughts. I love hearing from you.

I have the awful habit of adding to my completed fics. Arg. Glad you're not complaining and neither are my prereaders and beta. In fact, they're awesome and always want more. Thanks for that, girls.


	8. Chapter 8

**Playlist:**** Don't Look Back in anger by Oasis, You Found Me by The Fray**

**Chapter 8**

**2008**

Edward and I manage to be cordial with each other throughout the game. I can't be sure, but I'm almost positive he keeps sneaking glances my way, checking me out or something. It's weird considering what happened between us. But I don't say anything. I miss the way he used to look at me. The way he used to stare.

"So Angela and I talked earlier, and we all want to go get drinks," Alice says.

"That's fine with me."

"Yay!" she bellows, and Jasper slips his hand into hers, pulling her along. She links our arms and chats the whole way to the parking lot, Edward silently beside me. Is he coming, too?

Alice and Jasper veer off, and Edward stays by my side, walking with me. "This is mine," I say, gesturing toward my car.

"Okay. I'll see you there."

"You're going?"

"Yeah."

I'm glad. I'm curious and want to know more about his life. What's happened to him for the last ten years? Any girlfriends? Crazy drunken college stories? I want to know it all, but I know I won't ask. I don't have it in me because I shouldn't care, even though I do.

I unlock my door and open it, my foot inside when he says, "Hey, do you think . . ." He looks away then back again, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Can we talk? Just you and me? Maybe later? After drinks?"

"Is that a good idea?" I don't know if he still uses or drinks or what. In fact, I've never seen him loaded, but for all I know he's a raging alcoholic. Will he be coherent enough after visiting a bar to talk?

"I'd really like to clarify some things and um, apologize. If you'll let me."

I nod—it's all I can do—and get in my car alone.

**1996**

"Aren't you guys going?" Esme asks, stirring something delicious on the stove.

"I'm waiting for Edward," I say.

"Mmm. You guys are getting pretty close."

"I guess so." I try for nonchalant.

She looks over her shoulder and gives me that I-know-you're-playing-it-cool mom look.

I roll my eyes. "I like him."

Another look.

"What? I like him a lot, okay?"

"I didn't say anything."

I hate that. She's right. She didn't say anything.

"You know, I don't know where he came from. He's so charismatic and thoughtful. You know he bought me more of those ceramic bears for my brown sugar container. Carlisle threw mine out. Thought they came with the brown sugar. Can you believe it? What a dope."

I laugh. I can totally see Carlisle doing that. Adding brown sugar to his oatmeal and just chucking the dumb foo-foo bear.

"Sometimes I think Edward was born into the wrong family. I love my sister, but she's . . . there's no way to say it. She's pretentious and boring and doesn't have a nurturing bone in her body. Poor Edward. And that man of hers? Snore. Edward must be so lonely there. I'm surprised he didn't come running to us sooner."

"I wouldn't have minded that."

"I bet," she says, laughing.

"What are we betting about?" Edward asks, waltzing in, dressed and ready to go. He snags his wallet from the counter and situates his chain appropriately. I love that chain. I like to tug on it until he gets irritated and kisses me.

"We're betting about how long it will take Carlisle to notice I painted the bathroom." She lies easily. One more reason to admire her.

"You painted the bathroom?" he asks.

She elbows him, and he wraps his arms around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. She lifts her spoon for him to take a bite, and he hums appreciatively. "Why can't my mom cook like this?"

"Why cook when you have the money to eat out regularly? I wouldn't," she says.

"Yes, you would," Edward says. "'Cause you're cool like that. And by cool, I mean human."

"You hear that, Bella? I'm cool. And human."

"I know. I've known forever. It's Alice who's in denial about the coolness. Although between you and me, it's Carlisle that's more embarrassing to her."

She holds her spoon up, close to her chest, grinning with pride.

Edward leans down and licks it.

"Ugh. Now I have to clean it," she whines, but her grin belies her words. She loves having Edward here as much as I do.

"It was going to drip." He goes to the fridge and pulls out the juice, taking a swig from the container.

"I see that," she says, washing her spoon.

"How is that possible?"

"I had three teenage sons, Edward. I know everything that happens in this house." She turns to face us and points her spoon between the two us. Oh my gosh.

"You ready?" he asks.

I jolt to his side declaring, "Yep," meaning get me the hell out of here.

**-OP-**

I'm curled up in my warmest coat and Edward's arms. We're on a scratchy wool blanket on the football field, lights out. Stars litter the sky. It's so much prettier than the party decorations Lauren used for her annual New Year's party. Edward dragged me out after a whole twenty minutes with a smirk and a "Wanna go somewhere?," and I was sold. So here I am.

"What do you think everyone else is doing?" I ask.

"Who cares? They're probably all drunk." He scratches his stubble, and I want to lick it. I've wanted to lick a lot of things lately.

"Do you think Alice will be safe?"

"Jasper's a good guy, and Alice can take care of herself."

"Edward," I say, draping myself over his chest and playing with his hair.

His hands go to my hips, and he gives me a half smile. "What?"

"When did you know who I was?"

"When I moved here?" His eyes flash with the memory, and he laughs.

"Yeah. When did you know I was me?"

"Mmm, right about when you started to talk. You always had this sort of get-it-done-and-don't-mess-with-me way about you. You were telling Alice what she should do, and that was familiar. You were always trying to boss us around, making forts and stuff."

"Forts are cool," I say, feeling foolish he knew who I was and a bit embarrassed that I was rude when I was younger. But as an only child, mostly taking care of myself, I became independent fast. Which is great, but it also made me a little impatient with immature peers.

"We should make a fort," he declares.

"Sure. Let's do that." I chuckle at the idea. It's freezing; I don't want to move.

"I'm serious. Come on."

Edward pulls up his blanket, and we duck under the bleachers, attaching the cloth to various beams above us. We sit beneath it, blackness encasing us.

I don't know if it's being this close to Edward or the darkness, but I feel bold. And I begin to talk, to seek answers to questions that have been plaguing me as of late. "What are you thinking for college?"

"I'm not sure. My dad can send me wherever. I've put in a few applications, but I dunno. I might just stay local and go to the U."

"Do you want to go to the U, or . . ."

"I want to stay local." I can't make out his eyes, but I know his gaze is on me. "I want to be close to family and friends and you."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"Does that make us official then? If you're planning your future based on me, then . . ."

"Maybe."

I smack him in the chest blindly, and he grabs my hand, rubbing it, laughing. "You're such an annoying boy."

"And you're such a girl. Who cares about this boyfriend/girlfriend crap?"

"I don't. Not really."

He nudges me with his elbow. "Yeah you do. I won't tell anyone."

I chuckle, but I'm glad. I'd hate it if my cover was blown. I'm the girl who solely believes in practical things, like grades and extracurricular activities because they look good on transcripts. But I also believe in having fun. And kissing. Lots of kissing.

I never thought I'd believe in love. Believe it could grasp me, catch me in its claws and devour me so fiercely it's all I think about. But it has. And I do. All I think about anymore is Edward and how I love him. And if that makes me weak or makes me a disgrace to women, then so be it. Because I'm not giving it up.

"Why are you friends with all your friends?" he blurts.

"Um, what a strange question."

"I don't care. It felt deep, like it went with your question. So why?"

"I'm not. I'm friends with Alice. I'm okay friends with Jasper. He makes me laugh."

"_I_ make you laugh."

"You do make me laugh."

"Am I your friend?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. You're my boyfriend."

"I'm never gonna live this down, am I? Bella Swan, junior at Forks Podunk High, has turned me into a boyfriend. Willingly. My friends back home would beat my ass for this."

"Well, then they're not very good friends, are they?"

"Why's that?" He's laughing at the stupidity of this conversation. I am, too, but I like where it's going, so I keep at it.

"Because they don't see how good we are together."

"We are, aren't we?"

"We don't argue like those other lame couples."

"No, I guess we don't, do we?"

"And we keep each other straight."

"I don't think there's any denying I'm straight." He pulls me onto his lap with a grunt and a lift of his hips. Definitely straight.

"You know what I mean. We," I place my hands on his shoulders, my forehead against his, "we're good together."

"We are." Edward leans in. A soft kiss on the corner of my mouth makes me want more, so I take it. "So good," he whispers when we're apart, and I know he means it. Because I know him. And because we _are_ good together.

**-OP-**

When I start shivering, Edward decides it's time to head home. We pause on the overpass like usual. We're wrapped up in the blanket together—his chest against my back—looking out over the road.

There's not much traffic since everyone's partying so the air's relatively still. Quiet. Until the first crack of the night explodes before us. Up above the tree line, the sky shines with gold and blue and red, sparkles falling to the earth in patterns of celebration.

"So beautiful," Edward says, lips right at my ear.

"Isn't it?"

"Yeah, I love it." His warm lips caress the shell of my ear, making me shiver. "I love New Year's. There's a promise of a kiss."

I turn my head to catch his eyes. They're on me, the fiery reflection of the sky's there along with something else I can't place. And then his mouth is on mine. Slow. Warm. But creating a fireworks display in my body.

He turns me inside the blanket and presses me against the chain links of the overpass. "Happy New Year," he says, his eyes darting to my lips.

"Happy New Year," I echo and kiss him until the sky is quiet again. And the night is still and calm.

**A/N:** Reviews are better than confessions of a boyfriend.

So we're more than halfway there, folks. I hope you're enjoying the ride.


	9. Chapter 9

**Playlist: ****Glycerine by Bush, Dreams by the Cranberries**

**Chapter 9**

**2008**

As soon as I get in the bar, I snag Alice by the elbow and drag her into the bathroom. "You better start talking. Now."

She looks at her reflection and tsks over her hair then applies some lipstick.

"I'm going to kill you. Right here. In this stall. I'm not joking."

"I called him. I told him some things, and he wanted to come."

"You called him."

She shrugs.

"And told him things. What things?" I want to throttle her.

"Important things."

"How important?"

"Look, I know you like your job. I know you have friends and life is fine and dandy, but you're bored, and you're lonely, and you still have—"

"I don't. No, I don't," I say emphatically, but I know I'm lying.

"You do."

"I don't."

"Just have a drink. Socialize. It will be fun." Her cheery disposition and optimism make me want to puke.

"Fun?"

"Yeah, you know, fun."

"With Edward?"

"Yes, with Edward."

"Sometimes I really hate you."

"I love you, too, babe. And you know I would never have invited him if I didn't think you could handle it. You're stronger these days. You're different. I mean, after you made all those big decisions last year, I saw it. You pulled yourself up. You moved on. But there's still something missing. Maybe it's closure."

"Closure?"

"Maybe."

She shrugs again and pushes the door open.

Our group got a booth. As we walk toward it, Edward bursts into laughter, head cocked to the side, eyes bright. He's gorgeous.

"Have a seat," he says, getting out so I can scoot in and sit next to him.

The gesture and the look in his eyes, hesitant but kind, gives me the flip in my belly I used to feel when we were teenagers.

I should've killed Alice when we first got into the bathroom. This is all her fault.

**1997**

I'm on Edward's bed, looking through his music. He sits beside me, running his fingers through my hair. "No, Mom, I didn't—I don't want—I know it was only supposed to be a semester, but I want to finish here. I told you that."

He's been on the phone for ten minutes, his mom chirping in his ear, trying to sway his decision to stay. I think it's ridiculous since she's the one that kicked him out.

"You can't buy me back home." There's an edge to his voice, and I think he's going to start yelling. He doesn't. His hand freezes on my head. "How many? Are you kidding me? Well, of course I want to go, but not with—are you being serious? This is a legitimate offer?"

I turn, looking over my shoulder. He mouths, "Tickets," but I'm not sure what that means.

"Let me ask the gang, and I'll call you back. Okay. Bye."

I sit up, CD still in hand. It's Bush's latest album. He taps the case. "Mom got four tickets for Bush. They'll be in Seattle in a few weeks." His lips curve into a smile, and he leans down to kiss me softly. "Want to go?"

"You're serious?"

"Yeah." He laughs like it's ridiculous.

"I'm gonna meet your mother?"

"I hope not." I swat him, but he chuckles. "It has nothing to do with you. She's just crazy."

"Why is your relationship so . . ."

"She just doesn't get people. She wants me to be like Dad, and I'm not. I don't know where to start with her. She's overbearing and negligent at the same time. That doesn't even make sense, does it?"

"She's still trying."

"She's throwing money at the problem. The problem being me. Again."

"I don't think you're a problem," I say quietly.

"That's because I make you feel good."

"You do?" I ask, laughing, though I know it's so much more than that.

"Hell, yeah, I do."

I shrug and change the subject. "You know I'm going to salivate over Gavin Rossdale all night, right? And if he offers up something more than a concert, I'm taking it."

"Is that right?" His grin turns lascivious as he pushes me down and hovers over me.

"I just thought you should know." My hands are on his face, which is so close to mine.

"That's not going to happen." He's so confident.

"Why's that?"

"Because once you've had me, you won't want anyone else."

"Well, you better get on that then," I say, giving him permission to deflower me. Oh, how I want him to.

He smashes his lips to my neck and tickles me, making me squeal.

From somewhere in the house we hear a faint, "Dinner, you two."

Edward groans, and we go to eat supper. We play footsie the whole time while Esme smiles at us.

**-OP-**

We pull up to a high rise with a doorman. This is not what I was expecting. I imagined a huge house with a picket fence. And a maid.

"I'll just run in and get them," Edward mumbles.

He reaches for the handle, but Alice stops him with her words. "Yeah, right. I haven't seen Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Edward in ages."

I can't help my snicker. "You're a junior?"

"Shut up," he says, eyebrow quirked.

We park and head upstairs to his apartment.

The place smells of fresh flowers and is bright, lots of natural light coming through the large windows. It's beautiful but not a place I picture Edward feeling at home.

Edward's mother is stunning in some fancy, black business suit. Her red hair is vibrant, and her eyes are like Edward's—that same shade of green. His dad's not here. Working, she said.

She greets Alice with a hug and a kiss to the cheek and then turns to me. "So this is the girl?" she asks, holding my hands gingerly, like I might break.

"That's Bella," Edward says, annoyed with his mom. I think it's kind of sweet.

"He talks about you a lot."

"Mom," he says, warning her.

"A lot," she whispers. "I think you're the reason he's doing so well. I told him you should just move here for your senior year while he's at the U."

"Mom, Bella's not moving, and neither am I."

"We can always pay for room and board. Never say never," she sings.

"Can we go now?" he asks, acting like a grumpy, spoiled child. He was a bit of a brat when we were little, but since he's moved in with Alice, I haven't seen that side of him. I find it amusing, but I'm also concerned. I know he doesn't get along with his mom too well, but I don't know how deep this goes. Is he as hurt as I am? Maybe. But we're both alone. Together.

"Yes, yes." She swats the air and turns in a circle. "Where did I put those tickets?"

"Mom, come on."

"Oh, yes." She grabs her purse off a side table and rifles through it, mumbling. "Oh, Bella, did you decide about spring break?"

"What about it?" I ask, looking to Alice, who's just as confused as I am.

"You didn't tell her?" Elizabeth asks chidingly.

"I've only been home for a few weeks." He is so whiny around his mom.

"And it takes _weeks_ to invite your girlfriend home? I met Kate the first day you had a crush on her."

"I was a freshman." He shrugs. "I was excited."

"Now you've just insulted your girlfriend. You should apologize; that's rude."

"It's fine, Mrs. Masen. And I'd love to come."

"Good, and you two can come, too." She points to Alice and Jasper. "Of course, only if your parents say it's okay. We were thinking about taking the boat out, maybe camping. I'm not sure. I just want to spend time with Edward before he's at college since he's made it very clear he's not coming home anytime soon." She looks pointedly at Edward and stretches her hand out with the tickets.

"Okay, thanks, Mom," he says quickly, grabbing my hand and leading me out the door. I barely get to say goodbye before he's closed the door behind us, taking a deep breath. His expression and grip on my hand softens the further away we get from his home. I can't imagine being this high strung every time I was home. No wonder he needed some sort of release, some distraction. Not that I condone his drug use, but I get it.

**-OP-**

The heavy bass thumps through my body. Edward's crammed behind me in the tight space between our seats and the ones in front of us. His hands hold my hips while I move to the music. Sweat drips down my neck and back, my hair damp with perspiration. I love concerts.

I scream the lyrics to Glycerine, hopping up and down. Edward follows with me, peering over my shoulder. I earn a smile from him and a swift kiss to the neck. The song dies down, and I look ahead of us, taking in the scene. The crowd is full of kids, full of couples like us. Only we stand out above the rest. At least, in my mind we do. Because we love each other. We haven't said the words, but I know it's true. I feel it, and I know he does, too. It's only a matter of time before we say it, I think. Perhaps by the time I'm here again in Seattle, in Edward's world, I'll be brave enough to say the words first.

Alice drives us back home, the hour late, the energy fizzing throughout the car. We play Bush in the CD player and sing the lyrics loud, still high off the concert.

"Gavin Rossssssdale!" Alice moans.

"I know," I scream right behind her.

"He's the sexiest man alive," she counters.

"Hey," Jasper complains, and Edward laughs.

"It's true," I deadpan, and Edward smiles before wrapping his arm around me, drawing me in close. I grab a fistful of his t-shirt and yank him toward me, kissing him. "Maybe it's not true," I whisper against his lips, and he covers mine again.

We make out for twenty minutes before the car grows quiet. The music's lowered, and he whispers in my ear. "It'll be good to be home. With you." Edward and I fall asleep in the back, my head on his shoulder.

**-OP-**

The warm water trickles over me, my hands in my hair, smoothing out the conditioner. I was exhausted by the time we got home and wanted to sleep for hours, but this shower is rejuvenating. The candlelight is nice, too. Keeps me calm but not drowsy. Thank goodness for Alice and her 'every room must have an ambiance' rule.

There's a soft knock on the door. "It's yours in a sec, Alice."

The door opens.

"You have no boundaries. I keep telling you I'm going to hide that key, and then what are you—"

The curtain opens up, and Edward's standing there.

Wearing nothing.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice small, my hands dropping loosely to my sides.

He climbs in, closes the curtain, and steps around me, letting water cascade over him.

I cover my mouth and stare. He runs a bar of soap over himself quickly, as though I'm not even there. He shampoos his hair, giving me a smirky, "Sorry," when soap flings my direction.

When he's done, he reaches out for me, drawing me close to his chest, wrapping his arms around my back. I am wide awake now. And, it seems, so is Edward.

He does nothing but kiss me. But it does everything to me.

He turns off the water and wraps a towel around his waist. When I'm dry and enveloped in a towel, too, he leans in kissing the underside of my jaw. "Come stay with me tonight."

I don't say anything. I watch him as he leaves, blinking through the steam in the room.

After catching my breath, I get dressed in my pajamas. They're not sexy by any stretch—an old marching band t-shirt and some sleep shorts. At least my underwear isn't holey. Alice is fast asleep, so I simply tiptoe down the hallway and sneak into Edward's room.

He's lying on his bed, towel around his waist, hands behind his head. He catches my eyes and smiles. "Hi."

**A/N:** Um, reviews are better than Edward on your bed in a towel? Yeah, I don't believe it either. Thanks for leaving some love.


	10. Chapter 10

**Playlist: ****Scientist by Coldplay, ****Falling In by Lifehouse**

**Chapter 10**

**2008**

I learned a long time ago that beer and honest conversation is a bad, bad idea. So I limit myself to two drinks and sip soda the rest of the night. To my surprise, Edward never gets a drink at all. He sucks down a Sprite and nurses a tall glass of water until no one's there but us.

I don't know why I'm staying here. I could've gone to Alice's to hang out or gone back home to see my dad. Instead, curiosity has won out, and I'm stuck at this bar because I want to know what Edward has to say. I don't imagine it will be any good. But maybe this will give me closure like Alice said.

Who knows? Maybe it's less awful than I always thought. If it's worse, I can handle it. I've spent years growing up, becoming more sophisticated and dealing with my insecurities. I am not a teenager anymore.

Edward looks toward the bar and asks me if I want anything else. I shake my head. I'm afraid to talk to him. Afraid of what I'll say. Maybe he is, too. Because he hasn't said anything of importance yet.

"This is really awkward, isn't it?" he asks, staring at his water.

"And whose fault is that?" I can't help it. I'm still mad, I guess.

"It's mine," he admits, and I hold my breath. I never thought I'd hear those words. Ever.

**1997**

I stand, my back to his door, and blink. I must be dreaming.

Nope.

Edward's still just wearing a smirk and a towel.

I stare shamelessly at Edward's body from head to toe, wondering what's happening beneath that towel. Is he like he was in the shower? Would I be able to see it covered up like that?

I close my eyes and breathe deep. The bed creaks, and Edward rubs his hands up and down my arms. "Are you okay? We don't have to do anythi—"

My eyes fly open, I snake my hands around his neck, and my tongue strikes. The noises he makes tell me he wants me naked again, and I agree. I take a step toward his bed, pushing him backward and losing my clothes as I go. There's only a towel between us.

I press him onto the bed and cover his body with mine. He's so warm and inviting and smells like soap and boy and all Edward.

He sits up quickly, grabbing my hips and rotating me slightly. The movement loosens the towel, and it slips open.

I panic and stare and cover my mouth, trying not to scream or cry or something equally embarrassing. I want this. I've wanted this for so long, but now that it's here, it's freaking me out. What if I'm no good at it? What if the pain's unbearable? What if this screws everything up between us?

"Hey, where'd you go?" he asks, eyes soft on mine, hands caressing my stomach and waist.

"I'm just a little . . . overwhelmed, I guess."

"Do you want to stop?"

"Um, maybe?" I admit, though it's a question. Maybe he could decide. Maybe he knows what we should do. Maybe I'm too young to be doing this. But I want to. Still. Sort of. I think.

He sighs, but not unkindly, and kisses my temple. He slides me off his lap and wanders the room, fetching my underwear and his. He drops mine on the bed and pulls his own on. He sits next to me, a finger running down the side of my thigh. It comes back up, over my hip, across my belly button and between my breasts until it's under my chin. He coaxes me to look at him. "Will you still stay with me?"

"Yeah."

He kisses me softly, his lips warm and slow on mine, making me want things I just gave up.

He situates himself on the bed. So do I, and he slides behind me, fitting himself against me like a puzzle, his hand on my breast. "Bella?" My name is warm against my shoulder. And I like it there.

"Hmm?" I hum.

"If you want a shirt, you have to get it yourself."

"Okay," I say, giggling and place my hand over his, squeezing it slightly.

**-OP-**

I'm groggy, couldn't have slept for more than a few hours. A faint light seeps in through Edward's window, but I can't tell if it's the outdoor lamp or the sun coming up. I don't really care though, because I'm warm and comfortable in Edward's bed sleeping with him.

In my happiness, I squeeze my body inward, making my back round, and Edward drops his hand from mine. Disappointed and a little cold, I pick his hand up, trying to return it to its rightful place, but he doesn't want it there.

He slides it down my waist and past my butt, resting it just below my underwear. I lift my head to see it there, smiling internally. Someone wants me. It's a strange realization. But I'm ecstatic over it.

His hand starts to move, his thumb caressing my bare skin. That minute movement sends my body into a frenzy, and I move on instinct, my hips following the tempo of his thumb, rolling against him. And he responds, rocking with me.

What am I doing?

I can't stop.

Edward inches closer to me, his breath, hot and heavy on my neck. His hand grips me fully, and he freezes, like he has to stop, like he can't keep going or he'll . . .

He'll what?

I have to know.

I turn quickly, rolling on top of him, taking possession of his mouth. He responds, kissing me with abandon, his hands rough on my hips. My hands are on him now, too, pushing his boxers lower, lower.

He doesn't stop me.

I work my own bottoms off as well.

He doesn't stop me.

And when I slide over the top of him and give him my virginity, my mouth open against his, he still doesn't stop me.

**A/N:** Happy Valentine's Day! Only four more chapters. Where has the time gone? Crazy!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry for the mix-up earlier. I must've scrolled. Oops. This is the right one.**

**Playlist: ****Thunder by Boys Like Girls, ****4 Real by Avril Lavigne**

**Chapter 11**

**2008**

"Did you want to elaborate on that?" I ask. I know I'm being rude. But come on.

"I . . . there's so much I want to say to you. And I've wanted to say it for so long, but I never quite imagined the look on your face while I said it."

I sit there and wait for him to continue.

"You look so sad. It's devastating. I've never seen you so sad before."

"No, you wouldn't have, would you? Maybe Alice should have sent you pictures in the mail or something."

"You have to know, you changed my life. You made me see everything differently. I have no doubt I'd be strung out or dead right now if it weren't for you."

"Yeah, well, you changed my life, too."

"I know. I'm sorry."

The words echo through the room, banging off the walls like they'll never stop, and I don't want them to.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _

**1997**

Edward's head is nestled between my breasts, his arms clamped around me. My body aches in the best way, and I bite my lip with the rush of memories from last night. I remember his warm breath, gentle pressure, and needy hands, and I squirm. I can't help it. He was perfect. I couldn't have asked for a better first time.

He stirs, his hands stroking me softly as he kisses my bare skin. I stretch beneath him, and he raises his head, propping his chin on my chest. "Morning," he says with a smug smile.

"Morning," I say, rolling my eyes.

"What's that for?" He rolls his eyes, copying me.

"You and that stupid grin. Lose it before everyone in this house knows."

"Like you care."

"I care," I say, shocked.

"If it weren't for me covering your mouth with mine last night, everyone would already know."

"Well, I didn't know you were going to do that thing, while you were doing that other thing."

"You are the cutest girl on the planet," he announces, biting his lip.

I smack his forehead, laughing, but then we both freeze when we hear movement in the hallway.

There's a light knock on the door. "Yeah?" Edward says, voice heavy, like he just woke up. Good thinking.

"Mom's up and making breakfast. And Bella's still asleep, but when she gets up, will you walk her home? I'm too tired."

"Sure thing, Alice."

"Okay, thanks," she says, a smile in her voice.

"I'm just polite like that."

"Uh huh."

"And you're a bad friend." He covers his mouth to hide his chuckling.

"The worst," she mutters, and then her slippers slap down the hall.

**-OP-**

We get dressed side by side, Edward catching my eyes on occasion with no apology for staring whatsoever. I love it.

I slip out of his room and into Alice's to grab my things and put some jeans on.

We walk hand-in-hand down the street heading for the overpass. His thumb strokes the backside of my hand, sending a thrill through me, making me want a repeat of last night.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"It was about eleven when we left. Why?"

"No reason. I just feel like last night and today have merged into one big . . ."

He smirks at my words. "One big what, Bella?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Maybe I will."

We're on the bridge now, the wind whooshing around us. My hair's down, whipping across my face. Using one hand, he smoothes it over my shoulder but doesn't stop there. His hand trails down my side to my waist where he fingers the hem of my shirt, his cold fingertips brushing my bare skin.

I close my eyes, imagining when and where Edward and I can be together again like we were last night. When my heart was completely open to him and my body invited him in. When our feelings matched our actions. And we told the honest truth without words.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

The rush of traffic below us muffles his words. It would be the perfect time to tell him. Maybe he won't even hear it. And I can pretend I never said it if I feel the need.

I stop his hand suddenly and turn sideways to look at him.

"What?" He gives me the same smile he gave me last night–self satisfied. Cocky jerk.

"Nothing," I say, deciding maybe I won't tell him.

He takes me in his arms and gives me one of those slow, lingering kisses that makes me dizzy and pliable and willing to do anything. Anything at all.

He nuzzles my neck with his nose, his breath keeping my skin warm in the frigid air. "Bella, tell me." His words are soft, pleading. He wants to know what I have to say, no matter what it is.

So I tell him.

With my arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, eyes on his, I whisper my truth. "I love you."

His eyes sweep over mine, rapidly back and forth. His expression changes so quickly I can't make it out. He's all over the place. But in the end, he pulls my hands to his mouth and kisses them, eyes on mine.

I didn't really expect him to say it back. Hell, I didn't know I would even say it. Still, it hurts that he didn't respond. Maybe I'm just being silly. I don't know. This is all so new to me.

He walks me the rest of the way home. He says goodbye softly, a small smile on his face, eyes shy.

"I'll see you later, right?" I ask, though I know I will.

He lets my hand go, placing his own in his pockets, averting his eyes to the street, nodding his head, I think.

I get on tiptoe and kiss his lips before heading inside and trying to sleep the afternoon away. Heaven knows I need it. My body aches from the long day and night before. But I don't mind it at all.

**A/N:** Reviews are better than a much awaited apology.

A special shout out to yesterday's birthday girl and my fabulous beta, Perry Maxwell. Hope your day was fantastic and full of Henry Cavill. Love you, girl!


	12. Chapter 12

**Playlist: Far Behind by Candlebox, Black by Pearl Jam**

**Chapter 12**

**2008**

"I never meant to—I wish I would have explained so many things to you then. About my family. About me. And my past. I was just a stupid kid. I didn't know that—"

"Everyone's stupid when they're a teenager, Edward. But what you did was the most horrendous—it was . . . it incapacitated me for months. If it wasn't for Alice, I don't know if—"

"I wish I'd known," he says, head down.

Is he kidding me?

"Maybe if you had picked up the phone one damn time you would have known."

He props his elbows on the table, hands clenching his hair. He looks up suddenly, eyes hard. "I'm so angry. I want to slap that kid so hard. I want to kick his ass and beat him to a bloody pulp for what he did, but I can't. So, instead, I'm here, pleading for him. Trying to make amends."

"This third person garbage is ridiculous. Beat your own damn self up, because _you_ did this. Not some punk kid we both knew once. It was you."

"I know. I—dammit, I'm not saying any of this right."

"You didn't even—you didn't use a condom or anything. What if I had been pregnant?"

His eyes go wide. "Oh, no. Bella, no. I knew you were on birth control. I would never have . . . I have some scruple—"

A maniacal laugh escapes me. It's vicious and continues until I'm hyperventilating, trying desperately to catch my breath, but I can't because tears are swamping my system, choking me.

He reaches out his hand, placing it on my arm, but I yank it back, feeling burned.

"Don't you dare touch me."

**1997**

Unable to sleep a wink, I run some errands.

I'm at the grocery store, picking up a few things for the upcoming week. I know we need some fruit, and Dad's out of the cereal he likes. My pager goes off. It's Alice with a nine-one-one, which means there's a Jasper emergency. Or a hair emergency. Or an oh-my-gosh-my-dad's-so-embarrassing emergency. I don't think there are payphones around the market, so I ignore her page. I'll be over there later anyway. We can talk then.

I don't bother calling when I get home, though she's paged me again. Instead, I pack a bag for the rest of the day and head straight to her house. I know I'll have to spend some time talking to Alice–we made a deal to balance out our love lives with our friendship—but I truly just want to see Edward again and spend as much time with him as possible.

I open the door, and Alice's eyes are on mine immediately. The phone's in her hand, and she holds it out, frozen. "I've been trying to get a hold of you."

"I know. I came as soon as I could. What's going on?"

"Bella." My name is so small, like a spec of dust floating in the light. You shouldn't even know it's there, but you do.

"Alice, is he . . ." Panic floods my brain while tears start to fall. Is he okay? Where is he? Did he get run off the road, too? Not Edward.

She jumps from her seat and holds me tight, crying against my shoulder while I do the same to her. Though I have no idea what I'm crying about. I only know this is serious.

Esme's voice rises above our sobs. "I'm so sorry, honey. I did everything I could."

I pull away from Alice and wipe the snot from my nose.

"What happened?" I ask.

"He just left."

My stomach drops, my shoulders are pressed down with the weight of her words, and I'm dizzy. So dizzy, but I'm moving, stumbling down the hall, using the wall for support. I bang open his door: the crack of the drywall from the doorknob smashing into it is satisfying somehow. It's a reflection of how I feel: splintered, opened, forced into a state of irreparable damage.

His room is a mess as though he's been burgled, but I know that hasn't happened. The sheets are a tangled mass on the bed, though that may just be from our escapades last night.

The floor is strewn with CDs and cases, some cracked, some broken completely. His football cleats lie in the middle of the room, abandoned and left for good, like me. Like my heart, which beats only because it can't comprehend the gravity of what's happened to it.

"When did he go?" I croak, unsure if Alice and Esme can hear me.

"Right after he dropped you off. There was just no keeping him here." Esme's words hit hard, and I wonder if my heart stops beating altogether now that it knows the truth. My hand rubs over it, like I can massage it back to life. But I don't think I can.

I walk into his room, stepping around the landmines he left behind, memories of our life together. I sit on the bed, my hands in my lap, staring at my motionless fingers.

"Alice, let's give her a minute." The door is pulled closed, and I'm alone.

Really alone.

No Esme.

No Alice.

No Edward.

No love.

None.


	13. Chapter 13

**Playlist: Come on Get Higher by Matt Nathanson, ****Look What You've Done by Jet**

**Chapter 13**

**2008**

I gather my things and force him out of the booth. I head for the exit, but Edward's on my heels. Once I'm outside, the air clearing my head slightly, I choke out, "I'm done."

"I'm not. I'm sorry this is upsetting, but I came here with a purpose."

"I don't give a shit about your purpose!" I scream, rounding on him. I slam his chest with my palm, making him stumble. "You don't have any idea what you did. No clue. Because you left. No word. No letter. No phone call. No response. Nothing. And you expect me to sit here and listen to your lame-ass apology. I'm. Not. Going. To." I punctuate each word with a slam to his chest.

"I came back that day," he says, eyes on mine, but I can't see anything except the collar of his shirt just above my hand. "I saw you. On the overpass. And I knew I'd done the right thing."

"You saw me? And you just walked away?"

"I had to. You were too invested already. I couldn't stay anymore. You told me you loved me."

I grip the collar of his shirt, my fist pressing against his chest. "I did love you."

"I loved you, too." His words are clear, controlled. And what I'd wanted to hear for more than a decade. I stumble toward him, a tiny step. Almost nothing. But it _is_ something.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"There are so many reasons. I can't stop thinking about you. I try to distract myself, but nothing works. Not years of school. Not a career. Not relationships. Nothing. And I get so flustered, so livid when I think about what I did, how I left you heartbroken. Alone."

_Alone. _

I stare at the asphalt by our feet, listening to his words.

"I missed you every day. For years. I thought once you married, I'd get over it. I'd feel okay because you'd moved on. But then Alice called . . ."

I slide my eyes up his body, but I still can't look him in the eye. It'll hurt. I know it will.

"She told me. How you left him there at the altar. And the only thing you said to her when she found you in the bride's suite was, 'why'd he leave me?.' And I knew. You were just like me. You were still in love."

I loosen my fingers and slide them down his chest, letting them fall to my side. I lock eyes with him finally, though I can barely see through my tears. "I can't do this," I say and turn away, this time leaving him.

"Bella, please."

A second time.

Three times.

A fourth.

I pause at my car before getting in, not sure what I want to do.

"I'll be on the overpass. If you want to talk. Or anything," he says.

And then I drive away.

**1997**

The room is quiet. Where once music blared and laughter reigned, there is stillness. Around me I'm haunted by all that remains of Edward–his discarded personal effects. I haven't moved since sitting on his bed, but my eyes wander. The CDs he left were not important to him. Hacks, posers, he'd call them. His football gear is out, like he meant to pack it but realized he didn't need it anymore. He's done with his football career. And he's done with me. I'm left here to fester in this mess, to be forgotten.

_Why does everyone leave me? Forget me? What is so wrong with me that no one wants to stay? _

His walls are still covered in band posters, the latest musicians he'd fawned over. Rage Against the Machine is ripped down the middle. I walk to it, my feet catching on the debris beneath me. I run my hand up the poster, righting it. The corner is completely missing. I was tacked to that corner—a photo Alice took and Edward stole.

And I am gone. Did he take me with him? Or throw me away? I don't know which is worse. My stomach clenches, reality smashing through my body.

He's gone.

He's gone.

He's gone.

I tear through the house, throw the door open, and run full tilt down the street to the overpass. I stumble, my toe hitting a crack in the pavement, taking me down. I scoot backward, dragging my body like a gunshot victim to the side of the bridge. I clutch the chain link fence, bury my head in the crook of my arm and sob. Eventually, I pull myself up, but I'm still raging. I rattle the fence, wailing into the rushing air around me in hopes that it takes my sound and sorrow with it.

**A/N:** I was so good at review replies when I started posting. But now? I'm moving, so that's gone to the wayside in favor of packing up my life, which blows, by the way. Please know I read and appreciate each and every review. Your words inspire me and lift my day. Thank you.

There's one more. And it's all in 2008. Eep!


	14. Chapter 14

**Playlist: ****From Where You Are by Lifehouse, Best of Me by The Starting Line**

**Chapter 14 **

**2008**

Alice and Jasper are curled on the couch, watching a movie. It's late, and I assume Carlisle and Esme are already asleep. They were always good about being present but not hovering so we could have our space.

"Hey." My voice is hoarse, hardly recognizable.

Alice cranes her head to take me in. "I want to ask how'd it go, but by the looks of your smeared mascara, I'm guessing not good."

"I'm just gonna . . ." Jasper gets up and heads into Alice's old room, leaving us alone. He is such a sweet guy. A calm guy. I envy what Alice has with him. Always have. Because I want it, too. I even tried to settle once, wanting so badly to love again and be loved. But that only ended in sorrow because it wasn't the real thing. Not for me anyway.

I plop onto the couch, and Alice strokes my hair, guiding my head onto her lap where I cry quietly but deeply.

"He told you," she says, when my breathing's normal again.

"He loves me. Or he loved me then."

"No, you had it right the first time. I know you're grown up now, but if I had to bet on it, I'd say he does. Or he's willing to. He could."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you have a choice to make."

How can she be so collected when I'm a mess?

"I don't think I can make this decision." I sit up, and Alice swipes her finger beneath my eyes, fixing my makeup, maybe. "We live in separate states."

"I think you and I both know you'd move, if you really wanted to. And Bella, he'd move for you. I know he would. I've been talking to him for a while. He's not the same guy. He's differe—"

"I don't care if he's different." I can't believe she's defending him. "He hurt me. He punched a big hole in my heart and left me alone with no answers and nothing to fix it. For years. I want to inflict physical pain on him. Awful, terrible, torturous things. And it won't even come close to what he did to me."

Alice squeezes my hand. "I know," she says, sighing. "But do you think you could ever—"

"Forgive him?"

She nods.

My ex-fiancé called me before I came here. Wanted to make sure I would be safe and that I really wanted to go since Alice tends to convince me to do things I don't want to do. She did that a lot after Edward left. She had to.

He told me about a girl he was dating, someone from his office. He wished me good luck and a good time, even though I left him alone once.

When he spoke to me after the chapel was cleared out, I waited for the yelling, for the stream of accusations, but none came.

"I'm sorry," I said, breaking the silence.

His reply: "Better now than later, right?"

I propped my head on his shoulder and cried while he held me. I made a mistake, and we both knew it. With my simple apology, I was absolved because he loved me.

He forgave me because he loved me.

And I love Edward. Still. At least the memory of what we had. And it's promising.

So can I forgive him? Can I?

The truth is this: "I don't know."

"I don't think he knows either. But I think he'd risk being with you, even if it was a trial. Even if you spent years trying to forgive him but ended up hating him anyway. He's on his knees."

"Well, he should be," I bark.

She pats my thigh.

"Alice," I whine, throwing my head back onto the couch and catching her eyes. "Is this my chance? To get answers? To live with love? To have it? To keep it?"

"You know what I think?"

"No, please tell me. Tell me what to do."

"I think the bride I found snot sobbing on the floor in her wedding gown after leaving her groom at the altar owes herself a chance at true love. I have known you nearly my whole life. I have watched you date and go in and out of relationships, and you know what?"

She doesn't wait for my response but sits calmly in the silence she's created by halting her speech.

"You have never been happier than when you were with Edward. And I know we've speculated. I know we thought maybe it was just lust. Infatuation. Maybe it was just young love. A crush. But I think that's bullshit. I think he's the love of your damn life. And if you don't go to him and talk to him while you have the chance and while he's begging you—he's begging you, Bella—you will regret it for the rest of your life."

"You're a good friend," I say, placing my hand on her cheek. She leans into it, a small smile on her sweet face. "He's waiting for me on the overpass."

"Go," she says.

And I do.

I get to the overpass quickly. He's in the middle of the bridge, looking out over the road beneath him, his hair whipping around in the wind. I want to go to him. I want to talk to him. To tell him things. To ask him things. But my legs won't move.

I stand at the entrance, my hand on the rail, my feet glued to the concrete. And I stare.

Edward eventually spots me, and he stares back.

We stare at each other.

For fifteen minutes.

I know because he checks his watch, which makes me curious, so I check mine.

I spend a few minutes fidgeting, rearranging my purse, combing my hair with my fingers, putting on lip balm. And when there's nothing left to do, I take a step forward and another and another until I'm in front of Edward. But I've been standing for so long that I'm exhausted. So before he can say anything, I'm sliding to the ground, my boots crossed at the ankles in front of me. He sits beside me, almost in the same pose, keeping an appropriate distance between us.

"I didn't think you'd come," he says, expression solemn.

"I didn't think I'd come either." _And I never thought I'd be here. But I've come far over the years. Maybe you have, too. _

"Is it okay if I tell you some things?"

I shrug, slow and methodical. I don't know how I'm feeling, what I'm doing, or how this will end, but I'm here, so why not?

"Before I moved here I was such a user. My mom caught me with a joint. She was so pissed. I was able to talk her down, but when she found my stash of everything else, she knew it was much more than a one-time thing and dropped me at a rehab facility. I was there for four weeks, forced into sobriety of every kind. And I hated it. I hated my mom for suggesting it. I hated my dad for agreeing to it and passing me off like I didn't matter, but I never did. They treated me like a commodity, someone to brag about at social functions. I don't know if I did drugs to feel good or to get attention or what, but I had to do something. And that's what I chose.

"I was drug free, but my dealer was caught by the cops shortly after I returned home. He was mid-sale, and I was there. I'd gotten away simply because I was fast. Mom saw me right after that with some of my friends who were smoking out. She was livid. Again. She threatened to send me back to the facility, convinced I was using, even though I wasn't.

"By sheer luck, Aunt Esme called to chat, and I suddenly had a new place to go. A new place to stay sober."

After Edward left, Esme tried to have a few heart to hearts with me. I just couldn't do it. It was too painful. Talking with Carlisle didn't happen. He went back under his hood for a while. He never said it outright, but I think he was livid with Edward and what he'd done to me.

Alice and I talked about Edward but only when I brought it up. And I mostly cried. After a while, I simply wanted to avoid the topic altogether so I could move on. I thought it was smart at the time, but I wonder if more of my heart could've been saved if Esme had told me more about Edward's life. But I'll never know. And maybe it's best hearing it from Edward anyway.

"It was a joke at first. I thought Forks was the lamest town out there. But I stayed out of trouble, played ball. It even felt like acting. But you broke me down fast with your quick wit and long looks, and I knew you saw me. You knew behind the jokes and the wall I put up that I was open to life. To love, I guess."

Love? I spent so much time agonizing over love and what it was, what it meant, and if I'd loved him only to have my heart broken. But I suppose that's the best way to prove its existence. By experiencing it at its worst, by splitting your heart in two, making it an inescapable truth: love is real. And it sucks.

"You got me to admit to parts of me I hated and acknowledge parts of me I loved—parts of me you brought out. I tried so hard to stay away from you. I really did. But, dammit, you were so cute and so sad at times, and I wanted you. And I couldn't stay away from you any longer, so I just decided I'd give myself this one thing while I was here. You.

"And it was fun and simple, and then asshole Newton came along and asked you to a dance. I was lost after that, trying to figure a way out, but I didn't want out. I wanted in. Desperately, Bella. I wanted anything you'd give me. And you were so giving.

"Christmas was gut check time. I thought I'd go home, hook up with somebody or some substance, but that wasn't me anymore. Because you changed me. And I realized I loved you. Ironically, freaking out about that is what got me to score weed and smoke out. And that phone call . . ." He lets the words hang there, shaking his head. "I was still so messed up, so immature, an idiot. But worst of all, an addict. I mean, who responds to love by getting stoned? An addict.

"My counselor told me not to date while I was recovering, but I just didn't . . . I couldn't _not_. But she was right: I wasn't ready. But it's not just that. I wasn't ready for you. You needed so much more than I could give you. I did everything wrong."

He looks up then for the first time, embarrassment in his eyes. Rightfully so. But I can't chastise him because now all I can think about are those good times, those times when we were happy and too young and stupid to really enjoy it. I would love to have that again. But with Edward? I don't know if it's possible. Or even if I want it with him.

"So what happened?" I ask, encouraging him.

"The night of the concert I was feeling it, loving it–this life and you–and damn, the way you danced. I just . . . I was so weak, but I thought as long as I didn't mess you up, mess up your life, drag you into mine too deep, that it was okay, that I could have you. For a little while, anyway. And I did have you, and it was the most amazing night of my life. I'd never experienced sex like that before. It was just so different. Better. And I thought, this can work.

"But then you told me you loved me." He shakes his head, taking a deep breath. "And I was terrified. I panicked. I saw our future: me in college at a frat party getting high or drunk, and you being pissed and hating me or finding me dead in a ditch somewhere. Or worse, you in a ditch somewhere. And I couldn't do any of those things to you. I wouldn't. I refused. So I left. Like a complete coward, afraid of admitting my fears, my insecurities, and weaknesses, I ran.

"I'm talking so much." He nervously runs his hands over his thighs.

"I'm glad. It's good to know," I say. "I thought for the longest time you left because of something I did. Maybe I was bad in bed. Maybe I upset you. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut. Maybe I should've left you alone to begin with. I mean, I don't have the best track record with men. It's not something that's simple in my life. Riley died right after I kissed him, and right after you and I . . . I don't know. I started to think maybe I was cursed.

"But the older I got, the sillier that seemed, so then the blame shifted to you. Maybe you were a jerk. I mean, you left me even though you knew how abandoned I felt my whole life. Maybe you used me. Maybe you played me, never felt anything I did. But that was somehow worse. I never even believed in love until you came around, and you shattered that. I hated you."

He scratches at his stubbled jaw. "You asked me a few times if I missed using while I was here. I did sometimes, especially when I first showed up, but after a while, I didn't even think about it. I didn't need to get high or stoned or drunk because when I was with you, I virtually was. You're like my own drug. And I'm hooked. I can't drop this habit. I'm utterly addicted to you with no help of ever coming clean."

I'd imagined Edward's apology for years. He'd be on his knees, crying, professing his love, his devotion. But not once did I imagine us talking calmly on the overpass, him using a drug metaphor to describe how he felt about me. But for some reason, it works. It feels right. It's us. It's honest.

But I need to know more.

"Why did it take you so long to contact me?"

He closes his eyes briefly and pulls on his earlobe. "Shame," he says, barely audible.

It shouldn't, but it feels good to hear him say that. Part of me wants him to feel miserable about his actions. "What does all of this mean? What is it that you want?"

He turns, crossing his legs beneath him. "It means . . ." He takes a deep breath and places his hand palm up and open on the ground in front of me–an offering of sorts. "I'm in love with you, and I want to see what happens if you can love me back."

Wow.

"I . . ." _don't know what._

Once I wised up and realized what happened to our relationship wasn't my fault and that I wasn't cursed, I was able to try again. To open my heart, to trust. And I did. Being engaged was amazing. A lesson in life I needed. I knew I was lovable, that not everyone would abandon me. It gave me hope, but it also terrified me because I knew I wasn't being completely honest. I didn't love him the same way he loved me. It wasn't fair, so I had to let him go. I wondered for a while if that's what happened with Edward—that he didn't love me enough or the same, but now I know different. Now I know what I may have been missing—Edward's love. He never said it, but when we were young I was certain we felt the same, which is why his departure had been so devastating at the time. Confusion can make the heart weep. And for years mine wept. I thought I was healed. And in so many ways, I am, but this—seeing Edward tonight—feels right. It feels real. It feels like the closure I've been seeking even though I didn't know I needed it.

Edward sits quietly, awaiting my words, but none come because my mind is racing, trying to figure this all out. It's so much to take in. Finally, he speaks. "When Alice called me six months ago, I thought she was going to rant and rave. But she never did. She just started talking about you. It wasn't long before I felt connected to you again. Then she told me about your engagement and everything that followed. I knew then I wanted to see you. I needed to see you. I was already figuring out how to make it happen when Alice told me about the reunion, and it was like . . . I don't know . . . it just felt like it was time. I had to do it before I let anymore time pass me by . . . pass us by."

"So here you are," I say, not knowing how to respond to his candor. He's never been this forthcoming.

"I'm so sorry. For everything. And I know you don't trust me. You have no reason to, but I promise for the rest of my life, for as long as you'll have me, I will do my utmost to gain that trust back. I want to fix this, make it better. And I think if you let me, I could make you really, truly happy."

"You want me back." It's a statement.

"I want you. Yes." His voice is strong, clear. His eyes, the same.

How could this possibly work? And, more importantly, do I even want to try it? My head is leery, but I think the pounding in my chest is telling me something else. I want to give in to his soft eyes and outstretched hand. He's offering me something special here, but do I take it? I want to. I want it, and it's so close, I just have to take it. I could slide my finger against his and easily fall into his embrace, but is it the smartest thing to do? And are we ready for that? To try again?

My mind wanders to the night we had sex and how conflicted I was. Excited but scared. Wanting but hesitant. Needful but naïve. It's such a simple comparison, but I am no longer a little girl, no longer insecure and holding onto the first boy that ever showed me love and affection. I am a woman with the facts. A woman with wisdom. A woman with a full heart. All are leading me in the same direction. Toward Edward. Toward love. But . . .

"But what about . . . our lives are—"

"I will go anywhere, work anywhere, do anything. Be anything you want me to be."

"I never wanted you to be anything different. I liked you the way you were," I admit.

"I never deserved you. It's weird. I always felt like we had this unspoken connection because of the way we were raised—we were virtually on our own. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was wrong. You weren't alone. You had this amazing family that took you in. You had Carlisle and Esme and Alice. They raised you, made you into this amazing, giving, sweet girl, and I was this punk. This kid that had no one, and I continued to let that be my excuse to do whatever the hell I wanted."

So much of what he's saying is true. I had Alice's family. They took care of me. But in some ways that made me feel even more alone. The only time I didn't feel that ache was when I was with him.

"They would've let you stay there indefinitely. They loved having a son at home again. Plus, I liked you there. And I felt that connection, too. Granted, I didn't know too much about your home life, but I knew we were similar. I just knew."

"Yeah, you did."

"But we're not the same anymore. I'm not that girl. What you did changed me. My education changed me. Moving across the country changed me. Being engaged changed me. What if I'm too different, too unrecognizable for you to feel about me like you used to?"

"I've thought about that. A lot. I know that I've changed for the better, and I want the chance to prove that to you. But as for you . . . I told you that I've kept in touch with Esme, but what I didn't say was that she kept me in touch with you. I probably know way more about your life than I should. Logistics anyway. And it definitely made me think about what I wanted when Alice called, filling in the details. From what I know of you, Bella, I'm not surprised. You're ambitious and smart and kind and you see the best in people. You expect the best."

"That gets me in trouble sometimes. It's probably my worst and best quality." I give him a soft smile.

"Well, it gave me a chance to be someone I wasn't. I can't ever say thank you enough because it taught me who I actually was."

"How long have you been clean?" I have to know.

"Years."

"You really want to try this? Take two?" My heart drums wildly in my chest in anticipation. We are making this decision today, it seems.

"No, not take two. I don't want a repeat. Think of it as—as . . ." He looks around us, grappling for some idea and comes back to lock eyes with me. "Think of this moment, right now, as an overpass. That's our past all the way over there." He nods toward Alice's neighborhood. "And we're here now, on this bridge making decisions. But over there . . ." He points toward my home, his hand coming close to my body when he does, and I'm mesmerized by it. "That's our future. We just have to walk to it. Go from one side to the other. And I'm not saying it won't be scary or that we won't have problems, but I really want to get to the other side. I want to get there with you."

He drops his hand back to its original position–open and waiting for mine. The girl I was slipping into his bed and the woman I am now are one and the same, wanting the same thing. And that's okay. We are no longer foolish because we've grown up. So has Edward. And I can't wait to see where this will lead us. I slide my hand forward on the cement, fingers stretching toward his until they touch, inching over his palm, lying against his skin.

"Will you walk me to my dad's?"

Edward slips his fingers between my own and helps me to my feet. We walk slowly, keeping our eyes straight ahead to the end of the bridge–to the start of our future.

"Are you sure?" he asks when we reach the end. "You have every right never to speak to me again."

"And every right to forgive. I think in this case, it's a possibility."

"You do?" His voice is so small, so quiet.

"You once told me that once I had you I wouldn't want anyone else."

His lips turn up in the corners, and the familiar smile tugs at my heart.

"It was a joke. You thought you were so clever. But I've never heard truer words." The tears begin to fall again, sliding down my cheeks. "Edward, I've never wanted anyone else. Ever."

"I'm so sorry."

"Never hurt me again," I whisper.

"I promise," he says. He lifts our hands to his lips and kisses my hand. The moment brings me back to the last time he did that. It was the last time I saw him. But I decide this one cancels out that one.

We step off the overpass together, and he walks me to my old home. He stands on my porch, my hand in his. Neither of us says anything. We simply stare, taking in the changes the years have made to us, inside and out.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" he asks.

I nod and bite my lip.

He places his free hand on my face, stroking the apple of my cheek. "I missed you so much. I'm never letting you go."

I can't say anything. I hold my breath as he leans in. I want him to kiss me, but my heart is racing, trying to beat out of my chest because I'm simultaneously terrified and thrilled.

"Is this okay?" His words are a whisper against my mouth, kissing me on their own.

I don't answer. Instead, I slide my hand in his hair. He rolls his head, leaning into it, exhaling against my skin. With a shuddering breath, he brushes his lips against mine.

Soft. Sweet. Sensual.

"I can't believe I get to hold you again." The words are against my neck as he hugs me to him. He leans in one more time, a chaste kiss on my lips and a genuine smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He takes my walkway slowly, like he doesn't want to leave.

"Edward?" I call out.

He whirls around, eyes wide.

"Breakfast at Esmom's in the morning?" I ask.

"Yes. Definitely."

"I'll meet you on the overpass. Eight-ish?"

"I'll be there. I promise." He looks to the sky, his grin spreading, lighting up his whole face.

"What?" I ask, wondering what that smile's about.

"I think . . . we'll be really good together."

"So good," I whisper and watch him saunter down my road, knowing for the first time in over ten years that I'm going to see him tomorrow.

**A/N:** I don't generally point out the music, but this song! This song! From Where You Are by Lifehouse! Listen to it! It's on my blog.

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, reccing, pming, and fill-in-the-blanking!

Special thanks to my team _ss77_, modernsafari1, cejsmom, and perrymaxed. You girls are fantastically individual and individually fantastic!

There is no epi, but I've been throwing around the idea of one (It would bring us to the present!). Knowing me it will turn into a multi-chap and be posted separately, so I suggest following me if you want to see it.

As I said I'm moving, and I just started school again, however, Never Said I Didn't is sitting and beta'd. All I have to do is make small edits, so I don't imagine it will be terribly long before I begin posting. When the dust settles, you'll see me again. In the meantime, wait for me on the overpass!

Purely


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